


Justice, He Craves!

by majestyofmischief



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adventure, Alois - Freeform, Anime, Cielois - Freeform, Crime, Drama, Gay, Kuroshitsuji - Freeform, M/M, Murder, Phantomhive, Prison, Romance, Trancy, alociel - Freeform, aloisxciel - Freeform, blackbutler, ciel - Freeform, cielxalois - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majestyofmischief/pseuds/majestyofmischief
Summary: In which Ciel is a prick of a person and Alois is an assassin that loves seventies music.•   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •If you start at the beginning, you can probably discover where this all went wrong.It was just one night, the one night he let himself get a bit too tipsy. And where does it all go from there?Well, sleeping with someone you just met at a bar is considerably downhill. But finding out that the person you slept with is the same murderer you've been tracking down for a year and a half now?That's pretty far down the hill if you ask me.♔





	1. ONE: I Wish Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Bars and strip clubs were never really the type of place Ciel liked to hang out. In fact, he'd never even been to one until the evening previous. It was an enormous step out of his comfort zone, like walking into a zero-gravity chamber after living your whole life with invisible rocks on your shoes, weighing you down to the earth.

He already despised the smell of the place, a scent of pure and utter sin that reeked and made his blood boil. The flashing neon lights, blue and pink and whatever have you, also helped spike some irritation out of the bluenette, as did the horridly loud and obnoxious music that the place seemed to blare everywhere. The detective sighed, a pointer and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as his face lowered closer to the bar.

He didn't know why he'd decided it would be a good idea to take a break in this kind of place. What was he thinking?

"Gee, Ciel, won't it be fun to get yourself wasted and sit alone at a bar at 12 in the bloody morning? Won't it be grand to throw up in the lavatory a few hours later, regretting every decision you've ever made? Who knows, maybe you'll even meet a fucking stripper! Soil your name and reputation! How great of a break would that be?!" The man silently chastised his thought process and groaned.

"Feeling alright?"

A voice? Was it speaking to him? No, it couldn't be, it sounded far too inviting and sweet, like a little lullaby for a child with trouble sleeping. It was the color of May and the smell of first snow. In other words, it was soft and enticing. It chuckled.

"Deaf, are you? Bluie, I won't bite."

It was speaking to him. The man turned his head to peer at the beholder of the voice, tempted to know why in the world someone with such a melodic tone to their speech would-

Oh no.

Oh no.

They were attractive, too. Shit.

The first thing that caught the detective's attention were their eyes. Dear god, there was no way they were real. They were almost transparent, such a saturated shade of light blue. One could have thought Ciel had been impaled by those glaciers, that cold, icy stare making him freeze in surprise. At the same time, they were warm, welcoming, making the air around the pair get a little hotter. The blue was almost hidden behind a pair of thick, long black lashes. He wondered if they wore makeup, as black didn't seem like it would be the natural color for something so light. Regardless, it was intriguing. He was fascinated by this person's eyes.

Next was their hair. That light shade of flaxen glowed in the lighting of the place, a platinum blond that, if they were outside on a sunny day, would surely be radiating sunbeams. The strands of the color were styled with effortless precision, a cowlick along their pale forehead and little pieces ending along their cheeks, yet not one flyaway was found. It looked soft to the touch, as if it was the purest of silk. The bluenette couldn't help but envy them, as his own locks were constantly mussed and in disarray.

Plump and rosy pink lips were third in the line of what Ciel took into account, staring at the things a bit longer than he should have. One could compare them to rose petals, they seemed that delicate, but little marks where teeth had chomped down on the things were visible. It led him to believe he was a prostitute of sorts, as the mark was rather deep and no one in their right mind would ever bite down so hard as to make it bleed unless they were receiving the utmost pleasure.

He then stopped focusing on the main features and moved on to rest, drinking in the whole of this mysterious stranger.

They were certainly eccentric, no denying that. He discovered eyeing their chest that they were actually a he, as if that was the only piece of evidence besides the small, barely noticeable bulge in his lap. Odd, he thought, that a man would be wearing such a revealing outfit.

He was dressed in rather casual attire. That is, if you were a woman. A purple crop top exposed a somewhat toned midsection, and just a bit lower were black high waisted short shorts. Special emphasis on short shorts. Thighs were clad in yea high black socks (thigh highs, he clarified for his memory), and calves sported dull brown high heeled lace up boots with purple ribbon, a bit more vibrant than his top. Slutty, if you asked the bluenette.

"Tch, you seem a man of few words. Are you mute, or is it just me?" The jubilant blond spoke again, and he giggled.

Wait- he giggled. Dear god, this man was more girly than Midford.

"Cocky, aren't you?" The detective retorted, taking a little sip of the beer before him. He recoiled in distaste. Shit tastes like they haven't cleaned their tap in years.

"Well, yes, I suppose. But I'm sure if anyone else looked as good as I do, they'd be a tad bit cocky as well," the blond claimed, his voice still lovely as ever.

"An overdeveloped ego. How attractive," Ciel quipped, turning his head in the opposite direction to appear a dilettante.

This small action of rejection, however, only seemed to make him more of an intriguing target to the other male. He chortled, "Isn't it though?"

The bluenette said nothing, simply kept his bored eyes trained on the woman on the stage as boondoggle.

Unbeknownst to him, the stranger smirked and licked his lips. Oooo, he's playing hard to get. Fun.

"So tell me, detective, to whom do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?"

What the- how did he-?!

"Pardon?" Ciel had whirled around, deep blue eyes wider as brows furrowed. "Terribly sorry, but how did you know my status?"

"I didn't. You just told me."

"Then- then how did you guess as much?"

"I figured. I mean: white collar, black tie, beige trench coat, not to mention those disgusting black trousers; and that eyepatch. It just kind of screams, 'detective with troubled past trying to escape problems at strip bar,' doesn't it?" The pristine baby blue eyes shone as he explained his odd logic, baffling even the official.

Ciel was known for coming up with leads out of nothing, having little to no evidence and still somehow connecting what he had to discover the culprit. He'd been praised for this feat and his equanimity worldwide, becoming one of the most notable and impressive men in the business. But this? What the towhead had just done? It was ludicrous! Utterly idiotic, and yet it somehow was brilliant! And he had been correct, as well?

Dear god, he had to know this boy's name.

"Oh, and I nabbed this while you weren't looking." The blond's delicate index finger and thumb held up the other male's badge with a playfully proud smirk.

Never mind.

Ciel's eyes narrowed and he snatched the golden piece back, clouding it with his breath before rubbing it gently with a gloved finger as to polish it. With the thing in his hand, he reached into his coat to place it in the hidden pocket it held. He was pissed, he wasn't even given a chance to equivocate and rile up this blond.

Stranger's face fell into a childish pout, placing an elbow on the bar so his hand could support his jaw. "Hmph, no fun."

Just as quickly as his mood had dissipated, it has risen once again. The candle behind his eyes, smoking from being put out, had been lit again, the fire the mischievous and entrancing glint the light colored orbs held.

"So, are you planning on answering any of my questions?

He's so god damn capricious.

"Actually, I-"

"Don't pull that, 'I'm the one asking the questions,' shit on me. I'd asked you quite a few before I even knew you were of authority, and you still didn't give me anything. Besides, I'm only trying to be nice. You seemed lonely, and you aren't exactly unpleasant to look at, thus," he brushed a lock of blond from his face with a pleased grin, "I arrived. A bar isn't exactly the best place to be alone."

Ciel couldn't tell if he wanted to kill this stranger or if he was ready to take him home.

With a faux groan of ennui and a roll of his eyes, he complied. "Fine. What was it you wanted to ask?"

The man smiled, a perfect row of dazzlingly white teeth being shown off. How the fuck...? How does someone get teeth that white?

"Well," the blond began, the smile fading into more of an open mouthed pout as he furrowed his brows, "let's see, I had a lot, didn't I?" He paused to think, and Ciel found himself wondering if a man who couldn't remember the questions he had asked only a few minutes ago was truly serious about getting his answers. Or maybe he just had short term memory? Or maybe-

The blond snapped his fingers, a lightbulb practically flashing its annoyingly bright luminescent yellow into the detective's eyes right above his head.

"Yes, that's right! I asked you if you were feeling alright, if you were deaf, if the cat had your tongue or if it was just me, and to whom I owed the pleasure of our conversation!" He nodded rapidly, delight showing in his squinted eyes.

The blue haired man, once again, overindulged upon admiring this handsome stranger. He was just so... happy... about remembering questions he asked. So happy that little crinkles formed beside his eyes when he squinted the bright blue things, and the smile he donned seemed to be real, genuine, putting him at such ease in such a revolting place.

He was lost in him, taking in every detail of the male as he possibly could in that moment. Entranced, caught like a fly in a spider's web, bewitched, what have you. He was all of those things.

Those little dimples on his cheeks disappeared as the blond frowned, perfectly shaped brows lowering as irritation set in.

"Are you just going to sit there?" He questioned, leaning back in his seat and crossing lanky arms over long legs, fashioned much the same.

"Huh? Oh," the bluenette was snapped from his fantasies yet another time, shaking the repulsive thoughts from his head. "Uh, right." He could only find it in himself to chuckle nervously.

The stranger wasn't amused. He blinked only once in response, his eyes uninterested and lidded. He almost looked sleepy. The detective hated to think of himself as a bore...

"Uhm," Ciel cleared his throat, a fist over his mouth while the other held his unappetizing beer. "Well, I'm- feeling rather fine, thank you, I'm obviously not deaf," he rolled his eyes at that last part, "I admit, you had my tongue, and the 'pleasure' of this conversation is indebted to Ciel Phantomhive. Now, if you'd answer me these; why didn't you simply look at my badge to find my name, and what happens to be yours?"

Now the blond broke out an ear-to-ear grin, clearly very happy to have gotten his desired information. Ciel could only hope he would be so kind as to give him the same pleasure.

The adorable creases by the stranger's eyes remained, but grew a bit fainter as his teeth disappeared behind impressed plump lips.

"First answer; I did look at your name, but I wasn't quite sure how to pronounce it. Honestly, I thought it was some odd spelling of Kyle."

The detective pursed his lips irritably, eye twitching. Is that so...?

"Second answer; My clothes, face, mind, entrails, and body are all mine."

Again, a flash of frustration coursed through his system, showed by the vellication of his lower lid.

"N-No, that isn't what-"

Ciel's 'companion' sniggered, placing a manicured hand over his mouth as the noise was produced.

"Sarcasm, ever heard of it, detective? My name is Jim Macken," the last part was soft, sweet almost. And it had the bluenette's cheeks turning pink.

Jim Macken...

His being was slowly poisoned by the joy he received by learning the stranger's name, thoughts he would never think outside of this rubbish place checking in to his mind. Speaking of checking in, he had a hotel room, didn't he? And he already had a key... Jim did give off the vibe that he wasn't here just to chat, and Ciel was more than up for the idea-

"Well, I'm pleased to have met you, Jim," the eye-patched gentleman interrupted himself before he allowed his thoughts to dribble down into the gutter, grabbing them by the neck.

Jim bobbed his head ever so slightly, "And I'm pleased to meet you as well. Where're you from?" He inquired, slipping a £10 bill to the bartender and requesting a Sex on the Beach.

"Here, actually. I live downtown, but I booked a hotel 'round here for the night," Ciel responded.

Jim's eyebrows raised slightly at that, as if he were surprised that someone would do such a thing. It gave Ciel the feeling he had to explain himself.

"I'm- well, work isn't exactly easy, and my reputation precedes me almost wherever I go. It's bloody annoying. I'm just taking a break for the time being, no one knows me in this joint," he answered tiredly as if it was obvious, another sip of beer passing through his lips. He swallowed. "I take it you're a regular at this place?" Deep blue eyes once again eyed the man up and down, using his outfit confirm his query was one worth asking.

The blond tittered, "You could say that. I'm actually a dancer here."

Ciel choked on his drink.

"You're a stripper?" He exclaimed, wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve as his brows furrowed in shock. That explains the odd fashion choice...

Bright icy blue eyes lost their light as they slanted downward.

"Yes, I am. Problem with that?" Jim spat curtly, sneering.

Detective Phantomhive raised his hands in defense and shook them to show he meant no offense to be taken.

"No, not- ahem, not in the slightest, I just- I-I've never met a male exotic dancer."

The other squinted his eyes and sized up the bluenette, as if looking for even the smallest twitch of a muscle that would signify dishonesty with his odd deductive skills. Brushing a piece of hair behind his ear was his accolade to Ciel, signifying he believed him.

"I suppose there aren't many of us. Unless you count the ones in Magic Mike," he kid, snickering.

Ciel laughed along, his chest bouncing as he did so. "Yeah. You as good as them?" Another joke.

Jim's drink was slid to him, and he caught it in one swift motion of three fingers. His elbow on the bar, the other hand held up his cherubic face as he took a sip. He swallowed, smirking.

"Better than them."

A black eyebrow raised, challenging the statement.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmmmm."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Have you seen Magic Mike? They used abs and v-lines to disguise their sloppy form and techniques. I'm a professional."

"I know many professionals who aren't exactly a natural at their trade. How do I know you aren't falsely advertising?"

Jim raised the glass to his lips, staring at the orange and red drink as it tilted into his mouth.

"Do you have people paying you £700 just to sit on their lap for ten minutes?"

Well, damn.

The platinum haired seducer set his drink on the polished wood, a flat stomach hidden by the crop-top-clad chest he possessed as he leaned forward.

"I happen to have quite the reputation. I'm very good at what I do," his voice grew softer, more sultry, two of his fingers walking up the bluenette's thigh.

Ciel knew it all along. Jim was looking for a fuck. And the frustrating part was that he didn't feel like declining the offer.

The detective's face wore a sly grin, conniving.

"What say you we test that theory?"

"I'd be happy to prove it. Where're you staying?"

"The Cavalier. Room 457. Am I expected to pay?"

"For you, Bluie, there's no charge."

~oOo~

"...And, thus, I had sex with a serial killer without a clue of his actual identity."

Sebastian's face was unblinking, utterly bemused. He merely stared at the man in front of him put his head in his hands embarrassedly as he processed what he'd just been told.

Ciel, on the other hand, was absolutely disgusted with himself. Now that he'd retold the story, recalled the memories and vivid pictures into his mind, he'd realized just how suspicious that damn blond was. He was humiliated, fucking enraged even, that he'd been so blind in that moment as to let a complete stranger know such personal information. What kind of a detective was he?!

He'd let down his city, and if he hadn't been so bloody foolish, he would've been able to bring justice to the families of those who had lost loved ones thanks to that psychopath. Hell, his own family could have lost him...

This was a taint on his pride, a stigma he would be forced to bear for the rest of his life. He swore, no matter what, he would find and capture Alois Trancy. He would kill him with his bare hands if it came down to survival. He would win. He would get his justice. Alois would-

"Your arse must be sore," Michaelis interrupted his friend's brooding with a mock sympathetic pout.

Ciel felt his blood boil, his jaw dropping in revolt.

"Excuse me? We are in a public setting, you can't say such things! Someone could hear you!" He scolded, looking over his shoulder now just to make sure they weren't getting any looks.

"Please. You just retold the highly innapropriate story of your one night stand with a murderer. If anything, you should be worrying about people hearing what you said."

The detective sighed, "I suppose you're right. At any rate, we should keep our voices down."

"Yes, that's reasonable," Sebastian agreed and went silent for a moment before he began again. "So... Does it then?"

"Why on earth does it matter to you?"

"It would help with my understanding of the circumstances, of course."

The detective groaned, shutting his eyes as he gave up. "No, it does not. But I'd be willing to venture that his does."

Sebastian raised his brows. "I didn't think you'd really admit it," he started to snigger, clapping his hands together slowly, teasingly.

"I sincerely hope you choke on the shit you talk one of these days," Ciel insulted, rolling his eyes.

As Sebastian collected himself, the blue eyed man took another drink of his coffee. It was more bitter than he remembered... Another pack of sugar was added to the concoction, swirled with a previously unused spoon.

"Perhaps I will consider the notion, Phantomhive." The other was back to his suave nature.

Ciel sighed, "Well, until then, this was a nice meeting."

"Yes. Are you planning on telling Midford about this?"

"Are you crazy? Midford will have my head if she ever catches wind!"

"What makes you think that? The woman is head over heels for you."

"Yes, well, despite that, I had intimate relations with a criminal, Michaelis! If I tell her, she'll not only go off on me because she practically thinks we're soulmates, but I'll absolutely be stripped of my position and beat out of my mind. She may be a girly, cancerous bitch, but when she gets mad... I have seen some shit."

Ciel's friend scoffed, standing from his hunched state. "Well, I sincerely hope you clear your name then."

"That makes two of us," the bluenette added. "Leaving so soon?"

Sebastian shook his head to confirm, a solemn look on his face. "My assessment is in half an hour. I've got to meet with her."

Assessments? Fuck, when was his... 2:00, right. He still had some time to kill before he had to deal with Elizabeth. Maybe he could research a bit more on Alois in the meantime, find out some of his weaknesses-

"I hope we'll be able to meet again soon sometime," the black haired detective shook the other's hand. Ciel had never understood why he was oh-so formal about everything, a perfectionist at its finest. He reminded him of a butler, the way he always needed everything to be crisp and neat, even his speech.

"I'm certain we will. I'll try to plan something for us soon, text me." He clapped his companion's hand with his other, bidding him farewell and good luck as Sebastian exited the building.

It was then that he realized the bastard had left him with the bill.


	2. TWO: I’m Not Going To Call You, Blondie

Hopelessness. Horror. Disgust. Revulsion.

These were all things one would feel upon entering Ms. Elizabeth Midford's office at the London Police Department. Especially if you were Detective Ciel Phantomhive, whom the woman happened to lust after every waking moment of her time.

It'd been a relatively nice day before he opened that door; the city glowed with the sun, a rarity in such a normally dark and dreary place. He'd had an outing at a local coffee shoppe with one of his dearest friends, and shortly after that he'd even gone window shopping and found a nice navy blue suit. His thoughts were repetitive, he knew, but he really could not shake the fact that it was so golden outside.

What a shame he had to be dragged away from the light's open arms by none other than the woman he detested.

She was working at her desk filing papers, or maybe she wanted to make herself appear busy so Ciel would think her a hard working woman. The reality of the situation, however, was that the only thing his boss worked hard at was hounding the bluenette to give her a chance.

Of course, he would never fall for someone so cheap and desperate. One day, he'd love to have someone practically drooling at his feet to obey his every word, the narcissistic bastard, but he didn't want anyone who didn't fit his tastes. Especially when the one pursuing him was already so infatuated.

It should be a game, struggling to get the other's attention at first through their aloofness, then pulling a few strings that would catch their interest. Keeping that up, he'd soon have them wrapped around his little finger, a perfect lover utterly devoted to him and only him. And thus, he would be equally as in love.

Thinking that strategy over in his head made him realize he kind of sounded like a lunatic, but he could care less. He simply had standards one must meet in order for him to be intrigued. And Midford most definitely did not meet those standards.

"Ciel!" She exclaimed upon looking up from her "work". Placing two feminine hands on the desk before her, she shifted her weight to them so that she could bounce up, the action making her seem like a jack in the box. Her starry-eyed expression only boosted the similarity, large shining jade orbs locked on the detective of her dreams.

"Midford," Ciel tried to sound somewhat enthusiastic, but bored undertones were obviously existent.

Luckily, dear Elizabeth was a bit of a dimwit, and didn't sense it. "Oh, sit down darling! You must be absolutely exhausted, working so hard like you always do!" The jovial blond didn't mean her request, as she ran to him to the best of her ability in a pencil skirt.

Wrapping both her arms around one of the man's, she pulled him close to her and rubbed her cheek all over Ciel's shoulder. He could only scowl at her behavior, the rest of him too busy being in awe at her office.

It was atrociously girly, far too much so for his taste... Salmon polka dotted curtains, pictures of herself on the walls and her desk, fuzzy-ended pens, a pink, flowery bookshelf in the corner that held case files and- erotica?!

Ciel's upper lip curled. She had absolutely no respect for her workspace, treating it like she would a room in her home! What kind of inconsiderate, imbecilic, absolutely rubbish person was she?!

The blue-haired detective felt his blood boiling. If only Midford could see what was going on inside his head... Would she be in for a real treat...

"Uhm- pardon, Miss Midford," he rolled his shoulder, a signal to the woman on his arm that he would rather be formal in this short meeting- and that he didn't appreciate her clinging to him like a soul sucking leech. "I'd like to get this over with, if that's alright with you."

Her cheerful expression deflated like a balloon, the extra gleam in her eye vanishing just as fast as it had come. "Oh, right- yes, of course, the assessment! That's- why you're here! Hahah, silly me, please forgive me Ciel- I mean- Mr. Phantomhive!" She spluttered, trying to regain the poise and elegance she never possessed in the first place.

Awkward girl, isn't she... How in the fresh hell did she become Chief of Police?

"Let's begin then, shall we? I'd hate to waste your precious time!" Midford strut back to her desk in a manner that obviously read she still thought she stood a chance to win his affections. It was all told in the sway of her hips - she was still trying, even after she'd been so inept, and she was trying much too hard.

How brutally unattractive.

With an irritated sigh, Ciel adjusted his tie and jacket and shuffled over to the seat in front of Midford's desk. The latter plopped down into her own and scooted forward, suddenly very interested in the task at hand.

"Now, let me pull up your file so that we can get started..." Almost immediately, small, dainty fingers began to fly across the keyboard of a baby blue laptop, blonde bangs and curls sailing forward as she leaned down to type.

Clickity-clack-clack-clack-click-clickity, went the keys.

The detective swallowed, a mild sweat beginning to form at his brow.

That laptop had to be such a lascivious color of blue... A tyrannical and taunting color it seemed to be now. Why in God's dear name did Alois Trancy have to have those eyes...? Why couldn't they have been brown or hazel, or maybe even just green like Midford's? He would have hated him from the start because of the likeness and he would have never gotten into this mess.

He felt like he was being interrogated. Cornered, trapped, a spy that was to be tortured by the enemy 'till he confessed, and what torture this was. Staring at the very color of the eyes that had vitiated his name and status.

The worst part was that he was remembering those eyes so vividly in front of another person. The way they'd screw tight together as he begged, dear lord... The way they'd open lustfully and teasingly throughout the activity, the way they lidded themselves as he said his name...

"Nngh- ah Ciel..."

Ciel stopped breathing.

"Shit..."

His heart was pounding out of his chest, yet his lungs ceased to do much at all.

"Mmmn... So good, baby..."

Alois' voice rang throughout his head, sending shivers down his spine and warmth to his lap.

Desperate, oh god, why is he so desperate...

Suddenly he was back there, back to the night before in his hotel room and it was happening all over again. He was pounding into the svelte boy with all he could, making him scream and cry and god, he loved every second of it. And he hated that he adored it so much. He hated it with all of his heart, that he could have commit a formidable and abhorrent deed such as this. Worse was the fact that he had allowed himself to go through with something that decrepitated his good name and had enjoyed it.

"Holy hell, yes!"

This could simply not be happening.

No, no, of course. It was all just a daydream. It had never happened in the first place! Who even was Alois Trancy? He knew no one of that name, he would certainly have remembered, wouldn't he? He especially didn't know them by the alias Jim Macken. It was all a fantasy he'd dreamed up in his head!

...A rather sexually explicit fantasy that had most indefinitely happened just last night.

Sometimes the detective really hated his deductive abilities, they made such a terrible liar out of him. Even when he was only lying to himself.

The memories and flashbacks of the two foes' sex continued to feast upon his mind, fine dining that made for a very aroused and regretful host. He still was unable to shake the feeling of being inside of him... It was absolutely breathtaking, so wrong and yet so right, and it made poor Ciel shut his eyes and hang his head in shame.

"Ah! Here we go," Midford had grabbed that guilty pleasure by the neck and thrown it across the room, taking her seat instead in the dining hall that served the bluenette's attention. "So, you're working on..." Two clicks of her computer mouse, "two cases? Is that correct?" Ciel's hands were quaking on his knees, a troubled swallow passing through his throat.

"Er- yes, ma'am." He put up a front to the best of his ability at the moment, seeing as he was still frazzled. Miss Midford didn't exactly need to know that, now did she?

She blushed and placed a hand to her cheek, giggling desirously. "Ma'am? Oh, Ciel, no need for the formalities! Just call me Lizzy," the blonde chimed, a goofy smile on her face. You could just see the hearts in her eyes... It truly did irk him.

He shut his eyes, concentrating on bringing the stoic and disinterested detective back to the table.

"Midford," the bridge of his nose being pressed on its sides by furious digits, "can we please stop stalling and get on with it?" The words were curt, a bit more so than he had intended. He wouldn't have cared normally, but the young woman had inhaled sharply after he had spoken, and since she was his boss there was a bit of a problem with that.

"Er- sorry, miss, that came out wrong. I'd just like to proceed, if that's alright with you," Ciel offered as consolation. Much to his luck, Elizabeth smiled toothily, already back to her overly perky and annoying self.

"Mmhm, yes! Uhm," the girl opened a drawer with a tinny clunk, searching around in her desk for a pen with her lip bitten.

Dear god, she never stops trying, does she?!

"Heheh! Got it," her arm protruded in front of her sizable bust, shutting the thing and squirming around in her seat to try and "get comfortable." "Alright," a click and the pen was able to be written with, blue inky tip pressing down to the form beneath Midford's hand. "What are your cases, Mr. Phantomhive?"

"Don't you already kno-" He considered his words in his head, and he decided that even though she was the one that assigned him his cases, perhaps she had forgotten.

"Hh, my cases are those of Menace and the Armed Torch Arsonist," Ciel responded simply, crossing his legs. He still had a bit of an issue, but he'd have to deal with it later. At least in this environment he could conceal it with ease and without any line of questioning as to why.

Midford scribbled down his answer, her eyes flicking back up to the screen as she clicked the mouse a few times.

"Do you have a suspect list for either of your cases?"

"I have a prime suspect for my first case, Alois Trancy, but I have no suspects to report regarding the second as of late."

"I see," Midford nodded. She penned down a few words and once again returned to the computer monitor.

Tic-tic, went her mouse. Ciel sighed. The noise had already become irritating. Her voice had already become irritating. He was just in one of those moods where he wanted to abandon everything: his job; his city; his friends- All the bluenette wanted was some peace and quiet.

But the flirtatious blond writhing around in his brain had other plans.

~oOo~

It was so boring.

Then again, being questioned about what you've been doing the past two months for two hours usually was, wasn't it?

Ciel sighed as he left the obnoxious woman's office, rubbing his eyes with a tiredness he'd feel only upon such an occasion. He absolutely hated this part of his job. Don't get him wrong, he loved his job with all his heart, more than he could ever love somebody, but dear god, socializing with higher-ups? It was nowhere near enjoyable.

They all thought they could control him, tell him to fetch some petty criminal and bring him back to their feet like a good little puppy. Well, newsflash- he wasn't an animal, and if he was he would most certainly not be an obedient one such as a dog.

He was uncontrollable, unpredictable, wild. He would do what he wanted when he wanted, and they were all damn lucky he felt like solving their trivial cases.

Perhaps that was a reason he loved being a detective. It was so... easy. And yet, he would be praised for his "hard work" every time. Somehow, no one else would see the patterns he would notice upon first glance at their documents- until he pointed them out.

It was true, he had everyone wrapped around his pinky finger. He could catch anyone he wanted.

The bluenette ceased his walking. He turned to look behind him, just to see if there was anyone there.

Except the one person he wanted to find the most.

"Alois Trancy..." He whispered to himself, his eyes going dark as he continued his descent down the pavement.

"I'm going to find you. I'm going to bring you in. And I'm going to kill you myself."

It was no longer sunny out. It was back to being London. Dark, cold, cloudy, and dreary was the atmosphere.

A perfect night for the perfect crime.

"Ciel? Hello, Ciel?"

A voice? From inside his breast pocket?

Ciel grabbed the talkie he had hidden in his shirt.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" He responded quickly. By the way the voice had a peak in its pitch, Ciel could tell it was important.

"Alright, listen up. We got an anonymous tip a minute ago and, according to it, there's going to be a massacre at the Ruben Hall Casino tonight. In a few minutes, actually, shit... Our source gave us reason to believe it's Menace."

The detective's eyes widened. His grip on the communication device grew tighter, knuckles previously ivory now stained a ghastly white. This was his chance. "What's the address?! What did they tell you?!"

"62985 North SandHaven Avenue. They said they've got- Fuck, it's happening at 9, 73 lives are at stake here, man!"

"Seventy thr- Nine o' clock?! Dammit, I'm going, I'm going," he shoved the talkie back into his shirt pocket and raced to his car, slamming the door shut and stepping on the gas before he even knew what happened.

Get fucked, Menace.


	3. THREE: Sorry, I’ll Be Stopping You Now

"I'm very glad you're here with me tonight, doll."

"Thank you, sir." He swallowed, fiddling with something behind his back. "It's an honor, as always, sir." Tonight.

"Tonight," the first man sat in his chair, wheeling around to face the array of screens behind him, "you pull off the highest paying job I've ever been offered."

"Yes, sir."

"How many victims?"

"Seventy-three precisely, sir."

"How many gallons of blood will that be?"

He shuddered, clammy hands struggling to keep the item quiet. "One- one hundred nine point five gallons approximately, sir."

"Give me precision, sweetheart."

"I-" How hard it was to breathe. Knowing you're about to do something awful really affects you, hm? Calm down, in and out, in and out. "Uhm- uh- I can't say precisely. The... the amount of blood in the human body varies depending on the person, you see, from 1.2 to 1.5 gallons. Assuming they all have 1.5, your answer would be one hundred nine point five. Er- sir."

A sigh, "Very well. Just be sure to spill it all."

"Yes, sir."

He sat back in his chair, tapping his foot and watching everyone dine. What a pleasure this was. They'd all be dead soon, at his angel's hand. Look at them. Smug faces, laughing and enjoying each other's company. It made him sick. It was repulsive. They were living stacks of money to the man, and if money was alive, it'd walk away of its own free will- then it would be of no use to him. But dead money? You could do anything with dead money. Tear it up, spend it, wave it in people's faces. Money was supposed to be dead, not alive. Dead bodies meant cold, hard cash. And he wanted it.

But the other one didn't.

"Baby, sit on my lap."

"No, sir."

"Pardon me?"

"I meant yes, sir. But please wait, I have a- I have a surprise I'd like to give you, sir."

"You do? What's the occasion?"

"Do you not remember what you said earlier, sir? It's our highest paying job, sir. It calls for celebration, I think, sir."

"Hm..." The man in the chair thought about it for a moment, the ring on the tentative finger that tapped his lip shone in the camera light. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," the other's shaky mouth snaked its way into a sort of smirk, "I can't just tell you. But, it is something I've wanted for a long time. Something... very special. To me, anyway. I'd appreciate it if you let me have it."

"You're supposed to say sir after every sentence," his voice was curt and snarly, irate. "And how is this a surprise for me, if it's something you've wanted?"

"Oh, because I think you'll be impressed with how I get it."

"My name. End of every sentence. I'm warning you, princess, if you don't use it, I'll use your back as a cutting board." He was dead serious. "This- surprise, it sounds like you don't have it. And let me tell you right now, you won't be getting it. Now enough games. Tell me what it is. Now."

"Yes, sir."

Chik-chik.

Alois Trancy pulled the gun from behind his back and pointed it directly at the man's head, his face in a wicked grin.

"Surpriiiise."

POOM!

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

The bullet's flight through the air lasted a mere .5 seconds, but it felt like eons to the blond. He watched gleefully as it rammed right into the man's heart, blood spurting from the wound instantaneously. The look of pure terror and shock on his tormenter's face was sickeningly delightful to Alois, and even more so was the way that his eyes, previously dark and stabbing, slowly lost their light. It was as if the life was sucked right out of them, a white film being placed over the orbs that had caused the assassin such trouble for so long.

In truth, he was all too happy to watch him die, to watch the blood ooze out of him until so much had drained that there was absolutely no saving him. It served him right. Three straight years of tomfoolery and deprecation finally ended, and the cause of it all lying helpless at his feet.

The bastard's death had sparked something in his killer. Bloodlust, perhaps? He turned his head to the several screens showcasing the dinner guests, eyeing each and every one of their faces. They were each worth a lot of money. Actors, directors, businessmen, entrepreneurs, inheritors... This job would pay well. He may as well complete it, start himself off with a couple hundred thousand. That would be enough for now.

~oOo~

Ciel was positive he had broken at least 6 road laws as he sped to the casino. He'd nearly killed himself by coming close to crashing a few times, he'd ran some red lights (which would be excused since his sirens were on), and he'd practically emptied his gas tank going 93 miles per hour. All highly, highly illegal things to do, by the way. But it was justified in the bluenet's mind. He'd be jailing, possibly even killing someone who had done things that were so much worse. It was worth it.

Despite all his efforts, he was still late, fifteen minutes late to be exact. Even though other teams had surely been dispatched, Ciel's vehicle was the only one of law enforcement. He was joined moments later, though, by a squad of police cars. Thank god.

Michaelis was among them. Armed with the silver pistol that he affectionately dubbed Rachel, he approached his fellow detective and gave a nod. "You know who's in there?"

"Yes."

"Show loverboy what's in store for him, then," the black haired man gripped Ciel's shoulder and gave it a good shake, which made the latter scowl and huff.

"Oh, shut up, don't call him that. I'm just going to do my job," he breathed.

I'm killing him.

Michaelis frowned, gave him a long and hard stare that bore right into the detective's heart. Somehow he knew what Ciel meant; he'd always been able to tell ever since he joined the force. The bluenet hated it. He was the only person who could see right through him.

With a squeeze on the same shoulder that had Ciel hiss through his teeth, Sebastian looked him dead in the eyes. "Right. Your job. Nothing more, nothing less. Don't even think about-"

"What, 'don't even think about' what? You think I'm going in there on a murder mission?"

"No. But it's obvious you're not going in there with clean intentions."

"To you maybe. No one else knows what I've done."

Sebastian sighed, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. "One of these days you'll listen to reason, maybe," the man started off.

Ciel was just insulted. He'd basically been called a child. What the hell was that supposed to mean, "One of these days you'll listen to reason"?! Heated, he retorted, "I'll listen to my voice of reason, alright? It's gotten me further in this life than yours has gotten you!"

He regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, but it was too late. Michaelis stopped in his tracks, his body tense. Ciel suddenly feared for his safety.

But nothing. The other kept walking.

Shit.

The doors to the building were at last burst open, and the sound of a gunshot rang through the air.

A single body hit the ground, joining the seventy two other bloody ones already there. In the midst of all the gore was a tall, slender boy. Pale skin and even paler hair made his identity clear as day in the low lighting of the casino.

Alois Trancy. Ciel felt the joints in his jaw become stiff.

The blond had seen the incoming police. Before the detective could even announce that he needed to freeze, he shot a grappling hook to the chandelier and took to the ceiling, firing at the group. No one was pleased, and since he was now technically resisting arrest and attempting to assault officers, the men on the ground shot at their moving target.

Alois glided across the magnificent thing, his feet always seeming to land on exactly the right spot. It almost looked like a dance, Ciel noted, the way he'd sway and spin, then ease into a jump and start shooting away. He even got so cocky as to use the chain of the chandelier to get better aim, showcasing his flexible back and his impressive eye for violence.

A stifled cry in pain was loud in the hall, a body crumpling to the floor behind the bluenet. Someone had been shot. The danger of the situation became more evident to him, the fact that he was like a sitting duck in front of an extremely lethal and experienced assassin. Someone else fell to the ground, and this time Alois had the audacity to laugh.

Another. And another. And another. It was brutal, screams of friends and others alike were banging on his eardrums, forcing him to gaze upon the bloodbath that befell the establishment. Familiar faces were mangled, limbs were detached from one another, expressions of terror permanently etched into the victims of Menace.

Dammit, that was it! Ciel whipped out his own pistol and opened fire, aiming to kill. He missed every time, but his futile attempt caught the gunman's eye.

Oh, son of a fucking bitch.

Alois saw his one night stand. Even on the ground while the blond was suspended in the air, Ciel saw the wicked nature of the grin that spread across his lips, saw the way his eyes lit up so brilliantly. He seemed to say something, but Detective Phantomhive didn't hear him.

He had to wipe that horrid, horrid smile off of that sick beauty's face.

His hand raised on its own after an idea suddenly spilled into his head, pointing the gun above Alois' head. One may ask- why above? Isn't his goal to kill him? Why would he want to miss? Well, here's the thing; he wasn't missing.

No, while his other companions were aiming blindly instead of really focusing, Ciel had cooked up a plot to bring Menace to his knees. He didn't have to die, not now anyway, but maybe he could suffer and wait for his death instead. That would truly be painful.

So, Ciel fired. "Get back!" He called to everyone but the kill-for-hire, wanting to spare as many lives as he could. The bullet's flight ended in the chain of the chandelier, severing it from the roof. Alois' look of horror was priceless.

Down, down, down fell the blond, reaching and clawing for the metal as if that would do him any good. But then, he surprised the detective. He kicked the base of the light fixture, and that had sent him soaring ways away from the shattering glass.

"Unf!" Alois had landed feet away from the man who had shot his platform down with a grunt, glacier-like eyes shut in peace. He was unmoving.

No, had he killed him? That wasn't the plan, dammit, he thought to himself, dropping to the floor to check his vitals. Alois was absolutely unconscious, there was no questioning that. Which was good. But if he was dead, that would throw the plan completely off balance. He needed him alive.

Pressing his head to the man's chest and holding his thin, milk white wrist, he checked for any signs of life from the assassin. It took a moment or two, but he could hear and feel a heartbeat, and the blond's chest was rising shallowly, but surely. He was fine.

The detective stood. "He's alive. Take him to my car," he looked at Michaelis and gestured to move with the slight tilt of his neck. "We can try him, get him incarcerated for second-degree murder. He may even be given the death sentence. That'll serve him right, don't you think?" Ciel looked down at his foe as he spoke, clenching his fists. He hoped that maybe Alois could hear him just a little bit, comprehend how his life would soon be changing for the worse.

No one around the bluenet moved. His head jolted up, looking around at his group. "Go on, then. Investigate the scene, get home to your families. And get the others on some stretchers, of course." He ordered, turning on his heel and snapping to motion for Sebastian to follow him.

Justice seemed to be on his side tonight.


	4. FOUR: Gimme Shelter! But Maybe Somewhere Nicer Than This, Please?

Menace was, to be quite frank, pissed the fuck off when he woke up.

When he fell from that chandelier, he had thought for certain that he'd died at last- with the things he saw during his time comatose he surely had. The blinding bright light in the otherwise dark plane of existence, the lovely white and cream interior decor of the palace he arrived in once he had swum through the aforementioned glow, the sweet man with the red horns and sleek goatee whispering sweet nothings into his ear and... Well, it was all so tranquil and soothing, Alois thought it was just about the best experience he'd ever had the pleasure of receiving.

Looking back on it now, plummeting to his death was quite nice as well, actually. In that moment he was so thankful, so very grateful that this mess of a life he had lived was finally coming to an end! And so quickly! He didn't feel even a small twinge of pain when his body at last kissed the ground so sloppily, and maybe that was due to the fact that he had thrown himself a ways away from all of the jagged glass that had been so eager to impale him, or maybe it was that he was in so serene a headspace that nothing really registered to him. Regardless of the reason, it was an absolutely heavenly trip. Not a complaint was to be had about his descent.

Wait, wrong.

There was only one complaint- his heart was still beating. Fucking bobbies. Nearly killing him and yet they were incapable of doing even that job correctly! It was definitely time for new men, because these ones were bloody rubbish.

The memories of the night before now a blur, Alois tried to reconnect himself with reality. He had been lying flat on his back on a metal table for some time now, unbeknownst to him, so the shooting pain that rocketed through his spine as he sat up came as a shock to him. With a small yelp, soft and calloused hands gently kneaded his back while wandering eyes searched the room for any clue as to where he could possibly be.

The room itself was about the width of a bathroom, yet it lacked any sort of toilet or sink. The floor beneath him a gross grey-green of sandy concrete, the walls around him were a sturdy white with chips of paint flaking off at nearly every edge- it was hardly suitable for his taste.

About a hundred feet in front of him were twenty-one long metal bars, raising vertically from the ground to the water-damaged ceiling. So it was prison, then. If the blond didn't wish he was dead before, he certainly did now.

The bars kept him from the outside of his quarterly chambers, and because of their bothersome existence Alois had to focus very hard to see the room outside.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he could see that the walls were tan, lined with mahogany wood that started from the center of the wall and continued its way down. Aging blue carpet resided on the ground, with a pair of black loafers resting atop it while they lay beneath a small orangey-brown desk. The desk had a black office-style computer on its top, a silvery filing cabinet on its righthand side that contained three- no, four? Mm, it was definitely three- drawers.

It appeared to be after hours, as the lighting in the hallway was unusually low and no one was around. But even a three year old could make that kind of observation. Stupid, Alois shook his head, chastising himself inside his dumb little head. That doesn't help me. Well, maybe it could... But only if I get out of this cell. So, how am I going to make my grand escape...?

He turned that question over in his head a few times, scouring his line of sight for anything that could possibly be of use to his getaway...

Aha! There it was, an air vent on the side of the wall there, silvery and rusting with the age of it. The towhead jumped from his bed- if you could even call it such a thing- and marched over to his saving grace. He pried the grate off with such ease that it was clear how old his surroundings were, dust that had collected in the vent over the years- decades?- flying everyplace and into his lungs. Alois coughed, waving the rest of the particles away from his lips and turning his head away from the cause of his respiratory discomfort, the grate in his other hand.

Once the air had quite literally been cleared, he took a look back at his escape route. Though it wasn't the flawless, neat and nifty endeavor he'd desired, he supposed it would have to do. Filling his lungs to the brim with air and shutting his lips so that it all stayed inside, he set the grate down and artfully threw a leg up to reach the vent. It was a little difficult to arrive his foot, as it turned out the hole in the wall was quite a bit higher than he anticipated. No matter, though. Soon he'd be up, up, and away, out of there and Bob's your uncle, he'd be holding more cash in his hand than the wife of a recently departed millionaire!

"Ahem."

Oh, isn't this just pear-shaped.

The blond must have been a funny sight: one of his lower limbs trying to hoist his body up to a Lilliputian chute in the wall, his arms high above his head and clutching the wall, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, eyes all screwed up in a worry.

"Would you kindly get down from there," Ciel's tone made it sound more like a command than a request, "I'd like to speak with you if you're not too busy doing... whatever this is." The bluenet gestured dismissively at the scene before him, drawing his arms back to cross them in front of his chest and scowl at his idiotic prisoner.

Alois stood frozen in time for a few moments more before he sighed, setting free the air in his lungs, which had been in a little prison of its own. His expression soured and turned into a babyish pout, his posture deflated like a cartoonish balloon. He still hadn't moved the rest of his body.

The two stared at one another for a while, maintaining a silent and unofficial competition of who-could-out-stink-eye-who. The stakes were high in such a game. See, the winner would have their way, and the loser would be forced to comply. In Alois' corner, he wanted Ciel to have to watch him climb through that tiny wall hole to salvation. And in Ciel's, he desired an interrogative session in which the cause of his inner turmoil shut his mouth, spoke only when spoken to, and gave away the information needed to lock him up for a long time.

They went on like this for quite some time, and it was clear that neither wanted the other to get their just deserts. But then Alois' arse started to cramp up.

"Ah fuck," he swore, his body giving out as if he were a rag doll, crashing into the hard and dirty floor.

Ciel couldn't help but snicker evilly, having won their little game and having watched his rival collapse to the floor so unattractively. He slept with this sorry excuse for a human being? Were his standards really so low? Oh, look at how he writhed in such a pitiable, disgusting manner! Truly exquisite. But nevertheless, he had a job to do, so he snapped back into reality.

"C'mon now, get up," the detective clicked his tongue as if he were speaking to a dog, "I really don't have time for much more dawdling."

"Nn. Jus'- gimme- a minute-" Alois' face and arms were against the concrete, one leg sweeping backwards while the other stayed at his stomach, then alternating positions with the former and continuing this little pattern. It was making his bum move in a knowingly provocative way, but he played it off as if he was innocently trying to get on his feet again.

Ciel wasn't amused, though. In fact, he was quite put out by the display. "Seduction won't work on me twice, Trancy. Really, you just look hopeless. Now quit squirming and get up, you're making a spectacle of yourself."

Alois looked up at him with the most bratty and peeved expression he could possibly muster, furious with the blunet for foiling not one, but two of his plots for a better life. With an angst-ridden groan, the assassin used his arms to propel himself to his feet. He rubbed his lips together and created a big POP! before beginning his strut toward the detective.

"I am not hopeless," he spat in passing, "in fact I was quite on my way before you showed up."

Ciel had to laugh. "That air vent leads to a dead end, you know."

"Shit."

~oOo~

The room that the pair ended up in wasn't fit to Alois' liking either, although it was a considerable step up from the previous dingy holding cell he had been in only moments ago.

This time the walls were what appeared to be stucco, covered in a desaturated olive green paint. Mahogany wood made up the lower portion of the wall once more, and the convict made note of the similarity between this room and the hallway outside.

Truthfully, Alois didn't know why he liked to analyze rooms so much. He wasn't sure if he even liked doing it or if it was a habit he had picked up from his "employer." It'd make sense either way. But why rooms? Of all things, rooms were quite boring. Why not people? The way people acted? Thought patterns? Oh, that was a good one. Alois decided then and there he was going to stop scrutinizing rooms and start examining thought patterns, as it would be much more entertaining.

Ciel, however, had long known about the wonders of psychology. Ever since he was a child he'd been fascinated by the human brain and the way it worked. Because of that, interrogation was probably his favorite part about his job. He found it remarkably interesting, using different tactics to evoke certain feelings in a person that would make them give up valuable information. It was almost sensual to him, he found the task so intimate.

He would get inside the inner workings of someone's mind with the smallest little clue hinting at an insecurity. It could be something small, like a scratch behind the ear, or maybe something verbal, a vocal stagger of some sort. It was those little things, those little flaws, that really helped you know a person; Ciel swore that you could predict with near complete accuracy a person's true intentions if you looked at their cheeks when they spoke. An odd philosophy, he knew, but he was full of plenty.

The detective was curious as to what kinds of philosophies his subject had. He wondered if he even had philosophies. Or even morals. Most likely not, but still, he wanted to test this theory, push the limits of the man who had pushed his over the edge that fateful night.

"Sooo," Alois finally got gutsy enough to speak after a whole three minutes of sitting, "how do interrogations work, exactly? I've seen plenty of them in films, but I've never experienced one in real life; I'd be willing to venture it's quite different. What's my job here, to sit and look pretty and answer questions? Because I don't really feel like doing that at the moment. And I'm sure you don't like to ask such boring questions, especially if you're getting no response- after all, it would get quite cumbersome after a while. What kinds of questions do you ask? Do you think them boring? How do..."

It was then that Ciel noticed something- his voice was different. No longer the perfect and precise speech he had heard before, no, his words were much sloppier and more rushed. Choppy, if you please. Attributing to this discovery was yet another one, his accent was also not the same. Before, it had been a crisp Queen's English; it was Cockney at this point. And yet, it still held the same sultry tone of prowess and mischief, butter and salt, papyrus and pen.

The detective's very soul grew dark at how easily he was fooled, how easy it was for this man to transform himself into the peak of desire without a second thought, when really he was nothing but a slimy nobody, a rat, scum of-

"Jesus fuck, why do I have to try so hard for your damned attention all the time?! Hellooo? Is your head screwed loose, heh? What've ya got stuck in your ears, a massive pile of shit?-"

"Can it," he snapped, "As I recall, I'm the one asking the questions here."

That shut him up. Too easy. All he had to do was bring up an insignificant but memorable part of their past conversation and his murderer was silenced.

His reaction, on the other hand, brought into light the notion that Alois could perhaps have suffered some sort of emotional trauma long ago. Any normal person would merely have been irked by such a satirical comment. But his subject was rendered silent, eyes gaping wide to suck the life out of anything that dared look back at them, Ciel their unwilling victim. His lack of resilience in such a situation suggested a weakness that was shrouded in deep history. Then again, it was more than likely he was a psychopath, so of course he would behave in ways out of the ordinary. But even so, one would never pause for more than eight seconds between sentences unless they were saying or being told something of great magnitude.

Good. I can use this.

Alois' lips groveled their way into a smirk, his venomous eyes now shut. With a light chuckle, he began again. "I thought I told you not to pull such folderol on me. Very amusing. You're very crafty, Ciel."

"Oh, yes, I'm the crafty one."

"Indeed. Setting me up the way you did must have taken a lot of time and effort. I'm impressed."

"I never set you up. I did nothing of the sort, I showed up to a scene, you were there, I took you into custody. That's the lengthy explanation of it all."

"Wrong," the blond cut him off. "From the moment you took your aim you had a plan to take me out, and now you're watching it unfold with the utmost satisfaction. Aren't you, detective?"

"I am," he admitted, "but it was never a setup. I do believe I was quite clear about what I was going to do in that moment and you took the liberty to respond accordingly. So whose fault is it that you're in here, really?"

Thee fire in Alois' belly burnt out. He'd been defeated in their little spat once again. "Tch."

He leaned back in his chair, propping his elbow on the armrest and aiming his head only a few degrees away from his humiliator- just enough so that he could evade Ciel's gaze. "Fine. When do you intend to stop toying with me, then?"

"Whenever you decide to stop making a toy out of yourself," the bluenet explained, finally pulling the pen from behind his ear and clicking it. He pressed it to the paper that was set on the table and began to write down his notes, the sound of the ink flowing from the pen and scratching the paper irritating and yet calming to Alois' ears.

"Full name."

"I'm not yet done making a toy of myself, thanks."

Ciel just about lost his mind, his eye twitching. "Apologies, let me reiterate-" his tone grew grave and menacing, "Answer the fucking question, lest you want someone much less understanding than me asking it."

Alois had to scoff at such buffoonery. "You call yourself understanding? I quite beg to differ."

Ciel just eyeballed him, his stare cold and blank. He let his eyes do the talking for him, countering that icy force with a fire of his own. He'd never felt this way, so infuriated and yet so calm, ready to strangle someone and yet willing to hear them plead their case. He would make Alois listen. He would. There was no way around it, he would simply win as he always did. He had to.

Snow lost out to the flames in the end.

Heaving yet another of his heavy sighs, the blond sat back in his chair. "Alois Trancy. That's it."

"Nicknames and or aliases."

"Jim Macken, Menace, The Menace, Assassin Extraordinaire, Your Highness-"

"I'd appreciate some sincerity."

"Hmph. Fine, just the first two then."

Egotistical, cocky- possible narcissism.

"Height."

"Five-ten."

"Weight."

"Why am I not handcuffed right now?"

"Weight."

"Ugh. One hundred twenty one pounds."

Underweight for height. Likely result of strict diet.

"Age."

"Dunno. Probably 24? It's around there I think."

"Birthday."

"Why would I know my birthday if I don't know my age?"

Dementia/amnesia likely, get diagnosis.

"Race."

"Caucasian. Obviously, duh."

"Sex."

This time Alois glared at Ciel, and that familiar feeling of being impaled returned to his chest.

"Male."

Ciel recollected himself.

Prone to caprices. Bipolar?

"Any mental illnesses?"

"None." He said that while examining his nails.

Somehow Ciel didn't believe him. Nonetheless, he scratched out some of his notes to adjust his findings.

"Right then, now that we've got the basics out of the way," he straightened out his stack of papers by tapping it against the table, "what were you doing the night of September 21st?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Alois drawled, "I was killing people."

Ciel supposed that answer was satisfactory. "And why?"

"I'm an assassin for hire. Someone hired me. I assassinated the targets. And I was going to get paid a large sum of money for it.

"How much?"

"Fifteen hundred grand."

Good lord.

"A large sum," Ciel began. Alois simply nodded. "Likely because this was such a high-profile job. One of the victims," he slid a picture over to the questioned, "was Aleistor Chambers. He was quite a well known actor, as I'm sure you know."

"Was he?" The blond took a gander at the picture. "I actually didn't know that."

"You don't know, or you don't remember?"

"No, I didn't know. I don't lie about shit like this," Alois swore, a sense of genuineness surrounding his words.

"Really? And why is that?" The detective, clasping his fingers and leaning back in his chair, had to ask.

"You can't lie about circumstances. If you do, sooner or later you'll be caught, no matter what you do to avoid it. No use in lying if you'll just be found out," he explained. "Emotions, however, are much easier to fib about. Nobody cares about how you feel for more than a few minutes because it's so trivial, and nobody ever asks you how you feel anyway. But still, I'd need a reason to lie about my feelings."

And there they were, the first two philosophies of Alois Trancy. Ciel was pleased with himself, allowing a little smile to snake its way onto his lips. He'd backed the blond into a corner. Now that he felt comfortable and trusted him enough, it would be much easier to extract more personal details from him. Then it was only a matter of betraying his trust and locking him away forever. Simple. That bumbling idiot didn't realize what he'd given away.

"How interesting. How did you come to these conclusions?" Ciel struck again, a boa constrictor who was certain that his hold on his prey was only tightening by the second.

His counterpart refused the bait. "That," he started, "is personal information! I'm not just gonna go 'round telling an almost-complete stranger my inner turmoil, I catch your drift here, Phantomhive."

Ciel had been foiled, and now his attitude became something foul. He no longer had the upper hand, and that really pissed him off. "Are you fucking serious? Strangers?! How are we strangers, we've literally been insi-"

"Ahpapapapap! Nope! Nope nope nope, no arguing today! I'm not in the mood to argue!" Alois gestured with his hand to shut up, two fingers jumping down onto his thumb. He sighed gallantly, sitting back in his chair once again. "For cripes sake, you would think a detective would be more professional..."

If Ciel were a stew, and anger was the fire that cooked him, the stove would be on maximum heat and he would be boiling out of the pot.

"Now then, as I was saying; That's the kind of information you have to earn, you can't just outright try to manipulate me like that! It makes you seem very untrustworthy, and you wouldn't want to be untrustworthy, would you detective?"

With a groan, the man set his head in his hands, elbow on the table like some kind of improper animal. But he was too frizzled out to care. "And what would I have to do to earn it?"

"Be my friend," he said without any hesitance. "I don't know what it's like to have friends. I've never had them. Or maybe I have and I just don't remember. But sometimes I see my targets, all happy and conversing with someone who's just as giddy- and well, then I kill them, so they're not too happy then," Alois chuckled, "but still. They had someone to lean on and tell all their deep dark secrets to without fear of judgement, someone who'd laugh with them and make them feel good. I want that."

Ciel was quiet, stunned into silence by the blond's rambling. He sat blinking at him, and he stared right back. He'd really put a lot of thought into this, hadn't he? He knew what he wanted. That was what he craved, intimacy with someone. He wanted closeness and friendship, after supposedly having not been shown those things for some time.

He found the sentiment rather obtuse.

"Will not happen," Ciel refused. "It doesn't matter anyway, I already have more than enough evidence to convict you. I've got a confession on tape, multiple witnesses, and DNA matches. You'll stand trial, and if you should see fit to plead Not Guilty, you'll undeniably lose and be sentenced to life without parole, and then you'll rot in a prison cell until the day you die."

"You act as if that's supposed to scare me," Alois couldn't help but laugh at his companion's attempt, "no, no, I wouldn't mind. I wouldn't care. I don't. I'm not afraid to die anymore."

"Really," the bluenet was unimpressed. He'd heard that excuse before, and every single time the felons who'd once been so brave ate their words and shriveled up to cry when they heard they weren't leaving prison.

"Really. And I'll prove it once I'm in that courtroom."

"I'll be eager to see that."

It was quiet again after that. Not much time passed, Ciel only had time to reshuffle his papers and prepare to leave before Alois spoke again.

"It does matter, though." He said.

"What? What does?"

"Me not giving you what you want," he stated plainly. "You want to hear what I have to say. You want to know everything about me and figure me out so you can strip me down to nothing and make a fool out of me. I'm telling you now it won't work. But still, it matters to you. It matters to you to know all of that because it makes you feel superior to the other person and gives you the power. And you do love power, don't you?"

"Shut up," he spat.

"You know I'm right. What you've got right now doesn't please you. You want to know everything so you can keep climbing your way to the top and have the power over everyone, you selfish son of a bitch."

An enraged Ciel slammed his hand on the table and stood up, gathered his things and started for the door.

"An overdeveloped ego! How attractive," Alois used Ciel's own tactic against him, bringing up their past conversation yet again.

"Shut up." He kept walking and reached the door, grabbing it by the handle.

"And can I get a better cell next time?"

The door slammed shut behind him.


	5. FIVE: Neither Of Us Are Fortunate Sons

"All rise," the honorable Judge Faustus called for the cooperation of the courtroom and everyone stood, just as ordered. They were all too eager to protest. This was what they had been waiting for, the cherry on top of one rotten apple sundae that begged to be tossed in the trash and forgotten. Months and months of waiting had all led to this moment, and so despite their sore legs and aching backs, the audience stood with delight.

The accused, on the other hand, stood purely to be obedient. There was no passion or glee behind his standing, he simply stood because he was told to. He didn't want to stand, actually, the courtroom seats were cushioned and quite comfortable and he would have preferred to stay down. This whole trial had really tired him out.

He had told Ciel before that he would not bat an eyelash if he was thrown in the slammer, and he intended to stay true to his word. But court was a hell of a lot more... annoying than he had pictured. Especially with all the cameras and people crowding the room and invading his personal space. Normally the blond loved pictures, but now was certainly not the time for one- he looked a right mess, and this was proving to be the most stressful moment of his entire life. All the noise was irritating him and he definitely did not want to cause a a bigger ruckus than he already had.

Alois' trial had been quite possibly one of the biggest social media whirlwinds that had ever swept the U.K. Never before had a case produced this much publicity or national attention, and that was partly due to the fact that almost everyone had been personally victimized by the defendant, partly due to a very famous celebrity having just died at his hand, and partly due to the amount of times the trial had gone awry. Ciel found that such instances could be categorized as "scandals", and when spoken of in chronological order they essentially summed up the entire six month affair.

First there had been the arraignment scandal, in which Alois tried to plead not guilty by reason of insanity instead of guilty. This led to a two month long investigation on his background, which in turn created the identity scandal- there was no record of anyone under the name "Alois Trancy" ever existing in the United Kingdom. No birth certificate, no dental records, no visa applications, and most importantly no record of his mental health.

The blond swore that his name had never been changed and that he'd lived in Britain all his life, but of course there was no evidence to prove such a claim. Many people wondered if they could even try someone who apparently didn't exist. Moreover, they questioned how they had been able to arrest him and put the offenses on his record without one to mar. That one was called the rights and reasons scandal.

This went on for a solid month. The public was divided; one part of the population called for the trial to be postponed until everything was in proper order and his identity could be confirmed, another part didn't care and just wanted Alois to be put behind bars because it was so obviously him, and another part was unsure what to do or how to feel at all. It got so bad that full-blown marches had been organized to protest the mismanagement of the situation. A part of Alois was touched.

Ultimately, however, the Crown Court decided that if this was indeed the Menace as he said he was, there was more than enough evidence against him to conduct a proper hearing. They also determined that because of the lack of documentation, they couldn't confirm nor deny the existence of a mental illness in his psyche, and therefore Alois' plea had to be withdrawn. He returned to court a week later and plead guilty on all counts.

After that, the support to free Alois dissipated even quicker than it materialized. People came to their senses and realized that it was more than likely that they had the right guy. After all, no more killings had occurred after the suspect was locked up. Either he was framed or it was him, and more people were willing to bet on the odds of the latter than the former.

Then came time for the trial at last. Alois didn't have a lawyer, and he had too big of a stick up his ass to ask for one, so he decided he would defend himself. "Asking for help shows weakness," he had responded when inquired about his risky endeavor, "and I have everything to prove. I'd rather tell my version of events myself than let anyone else potentially get it all wrong." But the prosecution had a very strong case, and seeing as there was no jury, he had to somehow place the inkling of doubt inside of only one person- the stoic, particularly distrusting judge. It was no easy task by any means.

Now, on June 17, 2016, Alois was to be sentenced. He had no doubt that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, and he was prepared for that. It didn't bother him that he would waste away in a cell of some sort for all of eternity. It would all just be as it was before. His life wouldn't change, it would remain stagnant, like the flat-line on a heart monitor.

Yes, that was it, that was what his life had become, a flat-line. A shrill, consistent beep that rang throughout a hospital room and brought great despair to all who watched over him. It was loud and deafening, unmoving, and it would continue to yell and scream about the demise of this person whose heartbeat it reflected until it was unplugged. A sad and frankly useless analogy, but it got the point across. Nothing mattered anymore. What would happen would happen, and the blond would face whatever it was head-on. He wouldn't be scared, he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't beg- he would accept it, he would, he told himself this over and over again until he believed it. He would. He would. He would.

Faustus himself now stood in the air, great heights above Alois as he gripped the podium in disdain. His glare sent the hairs on his neck and arms flying to the skies, and the blond couldn't help but gulp.

The judge cleared his throat. "If I am honest, this was ridiculously simple to settle. I have long been convinced that you, Alois Trancy, are a disgusting, vile human being, and that you deserve what's to come to you. There has never been a doubt in my mind that you are evil."

Ouch.

"Which is why," his hand felt across his marvelous podium for his gavel, "I have complete confidence in my decision to sentence the accused to death."

Bang bang.

The crowd was electric, screaming at the top of their lungs to protest the judge's decision. This wasn't right. This wasn't just. The death penalty was illegal in Europe and Judge Faustus had just gone against that. Everyone was furious.

None more hysterical than Alois, however. He lunged forward so suddenly and violently that the bailiffs barely had time to restrain him. His cries could be compared to the likes of a banshee's, petrifying Ciel at the sheer lack of control his display of emotions presented.

Oh, yes, Ciel was in the courtroom of course. Why would he miss this? The very man who tarnished his name was on trial, and he intended to make sure he was behind bars for the rest of his life. He went to every single hearing, stayed the entire time, and enjoyed every second of it.

But this? The death penalty? Surely the judge was jesting. He had to be. There was no way. Oh, but it seemed there was. Alois was on the ground sobbing uncontrollably, the onlookers were rioting, and the judge was fleeing the scene smooth and unbothered as silk. How could this be? Why would a judge make such an unprecedented and unacceptable decision? What a fucking joke this all was.

Not even Alois deserved such a cruel and unusual punishment.

That night the world decided to have a field day with the newfound information. The detective was unable to escape it. Every news station was covering it, every social media platform was riddled with posts about it- hell, even Ciel's own private messages were blowing up thanks to Sebastian and Finnian, and as he sat on his couch dressed in his boxers and an undershirt he felt anger unlike any other he'd ever felt before. It was a calm, lava-like anger, controlled, slow to start, yet fiery and hot, and at the same time if anyone dared bring up Faustus or Alois he would most certainly crush the TV remote in his fist.

On the other hand, the buzz surrounding the incident was more than reason enough for cataloguing yet another scandal. That could be a nice distraction from all the insanity. This made what, the fourth one? No, no, the fifth. Alois miserably defending himself could count as one. He supposed he would name that one... Wait, no, his defense wasn't exactly scandalous, it was just poorly planned. No, Faustus fit the bill much better.

What would he call that one? The Faustus scandal? Hm... No, it sounded interesting, but it didn't flow with the rest. The judicial scandal? Nope, not that one either. What would he call it...the end scandal? Yes, yes, that was it. Ciel took out his notepad- he always had one on him- and jotted down the name, as well as a brief description of its events.

At last, the acronym was completed! When put together, all the names of the scandals spelled out: AIR&RE. It sounded brilliant. He tore out the pages he needed from the pad and added it to the collection of other acronyms for events he had created.

See, this was a hobby of his, labelling events as smaller ones and creating acronyms for them. It helped him to remember the better parts of history he was graced enough to witness, and it especially helped with his line of work. He often used outside knowledge to deduce how things would play out, why things happened the way they did, and how he could put an end to it. It made things simpler to remember and easier to recall if he recorded and named them, at least in his opinion.

God, he didn't want to go to work tomorrow.

~oOo~

This was absurd. This was absolutely, positively, motherfucking absurd. Fuck this. Fuck this bullshit and all the dicks that played a part in this. This was the worst possible thing that could ever happen. Ever. Ciel was onboard a private jet with his least favorite person in the entire universe strapped to a dolly Hannibal Lecter style while they headed to the United States, where the detective would be forced to spend the next five years of his life as a prison guard.

Fuck. This. Shit. He thought as he sat begrudgingly in his seat. And to think, all of this happened less than four hours ago. Four hours ago Ciel had felt completely fine and everything was normal and not shitty. What the hell had even happened in that time? The bluenet shut his eyes and slowly, slowly, ever so slowly tried to slip into his subconscious so he could relive the last few moments of his existing life. Perhaps he could find some solace in doing so.

"...The penalty must stand, I truly do apologize for the inconvenience," Will sighed irately.

"But this is blasphemous," Ciel had yelled, "why can't they overturn it?! Why can't he just stay here in London and serve a life sentence instead? Faustus was stripped of his title, he is no longer a judge! Surely his outlandish decision should be terminated as well?"

"I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. He cannot be tried for the same crime more than once! The verdict has been given. The trial is over. What is done is done, no matter how illegal it is."

"Try him for a separate crime, then! He's guilty of more than murder! Breaking and entering, vandalism, public indecency-"

"Really, Ciel, this is getting out of hand. You are letting this get to your head and as a result are not thinking clearly. Public indecency?"

"I am thinking clearly! I've never thought more clearly in my life! This is important and this is unjust, and I refuse to sit by and let this happen!"

"Yeah, listen to him!" Alois piped up, having been silent for the whole of the quarrel up until now.

"You shut up," Ciel spat at him, "it's your own fault you're in this mess, you don't get a say in it!"

"Oy!" The blond exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "it's my own life, not yours! You can't plan my prion sentence!"

"You just told him to listen to me! What do you want, you capricious dick-swab?!"

"I'll have you kn-"

"Gentlemen, please!" Will had reached his breaking point and was fed up, regaining control of the situation rather speedily. With the pair now stunned into silence, the lawyer took this time to say what he needed to.

"As murky as these circumstances are, there is no changing them. Alois has been sentenced to death, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"What about the appeal I filed? Please, this is outrageous! The death penalty was outlawed in 1965, it's 2016 for cryin' out loud! This is literally against the law!" Alois begged.

"So's murder," Ciel snarked.

"You bite your tongue."

"Believe me, I wish the appeal worked. But the Crown Court is obligated to comply with the Queen's wishes if she decides to intervene, and since news of this reached her she believes you have committed the ultimate act of high treason and feels-"

"Unbelievable. Even Queen fucking Elizabeth wants me dead."

"Unfortunately so. However, we can't have you executed here, as the Murder Act of 1964 is still in full effect. It is legal, however, to be sentenced to death in the States."

"...No."

"I'm sorry, but you will be transferred to a maximum-security prison in Massachusetts, and you will live out your sentence there. You both fly out today. I've taken the liberty of purchasing your tickets-"

"Pardon me," Ciel couldn't help but interrupt. Did his eyes and ears deceive him? Did he say "you both"? "But what do you mean, 'you both?'"

"I'm so glad you asked," Will smirked, clasping his hands and leaning back in his seat. "You both will be flying out to the States. The prison you are going to, Aloysius Penitentiary-"

"You did that on purpose," it was Alois who snarked now.

"...This prison has a unique system for its death row inmates. They are paired with a detective who they are believed to be compatible with through the use of an extensive personality questionnaire. You will both recall that you took this exam not too long ago."

"I took it thinking it was busywork," the blond admitted sheepishly. Ciel merely rolled his eyes.

"Well, both tests were sent back to the prison, and they, unbiasedly, found that you two were the most compatible together."

"What?!" Cried Alois.

"Him?!" Ciel scoffed.

"Once a match has been made, preparations begin to be established. In regards to living arrangements, Alois will have a spacious cell of his own, isolated from the other inmates, and Ciel has generously been gifted a home and personal vehicle, courtesy of the prison. Upon arrival in Massachusetts, Ciel will receive several new cases, out of which he must pick one. Then, the two of you will collaborate to solve it. To do so you will be permitted to leave the prison as you see fit- supervised, of course. They are all real cases, very real and very urgent. You will both be paid handsomely for each one you complete until Alois' execution. The money Alois earns can be spent in the prison to purchase better meals, clothes, and more time in the courtyard. Ciel can do as he wishes with his money, and he is allowed to keep the cases he currently has here in England, but Alois can be of no service to him on those. Whenever you two are not working on cases, you are to keep a strict and close eye on Alois, Ciel. Do you understand?"

The room was dead silent. Nothing and nobody moved. Nobody knew what to say. All Ciel knew was that he was angry.

He was abruptly being uprooted from his life here with no warning, no time to prepare, no say in any of it. It was all just decided for him in a split second. He was moving to a new country. He was getting a new job. He was going to leave his old life behind to chauffeur around a criminal who had ruined him. And it all started today.

He was furious.

"When is my execution date?" Alois asked quietly after being silent for a few minutes more.

"It isn't set in stone, but they're strongly leaning toward a date in 2021 or so."

"...That prison doesn't sound very maximum-security to me."

"Trust me when I say it is."

"I don't really want to go there, Spears."

"Well that's too damn bad," Ciel fumed. "I guess we're fucking going to America today. What time does our flight leave. What airport. Who's picking us up. What's the address of the prison. What's my address. How're-"

"You leave at noon at London airport. Look for a sign saying 'Aloysius.' The rest of the information will be sent to your personal number once you land."

"How do you know all this? You're just a lawyer," Alois pointed out.

"I am. I am also a representative of Aloysius Penitentiary. I will be presiding over you for the duration of your stay."

"You make it sound like it's a once in a lifetime vacation to the Bahamas and not a one-way ticket to Hell."

"Thank you, I try."

Ciel still kept his mouth shut. He simply glared at Will, gave him the stare that sent goosebumps down even Sebastian's spine. Sebastian... He would probably never see him for five or more years. He had to leave his best and only friend for a mentally unstable towhead.

It was then that Ciel stood up and left the room. He drove home, packed as much clothing as he could, and drove himself to the airport. Then he waited until it was noon. Then he got his ticket. Then he got on the plane.

Now he was flying in the plane.

Good God, he really did not want to go to work tomorrow.


	6. SIX: This Is The Day My Life Will Surely Change

Alois was scared of planes.

It was a newer discovery of his. Really, it had only just occurred to him at this very moment, when he was being loaded onto the plane à la Hannibal Lecter.

Arms were bound in a straitjacket, mouth covered with a mask and legs and torso strapped to a handcart. It made him look much more mad than he really was. Truthfully, he was not mad. Maybe there were a few screws loose somewhere in that knotted-up brain of his, but not unscrewed enough that he could be considered one of the crazies.

Frankly, it was a bit insulting to be put in such a getup. For one, it wasn't even a flattering color- beige. Fucking beige. That was the color of trouble, he had come to realize. Fried food was usually beige, and as every good citizen of the world knows, eating too much of it could clog your arteries and kill you. Not to mention Ciel's trench coat had been beige on the night they had met, and look at what a grand situation he'd wound up in, thanks to that prick.

Then of course, there was the fit of it. It was far too tight, too constrictive around his body, which made him anxious. And when he was anxious, he'd usually shake his leg, twiddle his fingers, fix his hair, anything. But he couldn't move. If he couldn't move, couldn't fidget, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Which meant he'd have use his brain to entertain himself. And if his head made conversation with his soul for too long, he was sure he really would descend into madness.

Good god, another discovery! Alois' head spun, I'm also claustrophobic!

Well, alright, he had to rationalize with himself, he wore tight clothing and high heeled shoes, so surely he couldn't be claustrophobic simply because of that, right?

No, no, that would be absurd. That's not what makes me claustrophobic. It's just that this whole... ensemble. It's like a room in and of itself. It's too tight, it almost surrounds me entirely. Too tight, too tight.

Ah. He supposed that made sense. In that case, this plane ride had to end, and it had to end quickly.

Oh, but the engine hadn't even started. Of course it hadn't. It wouldn't for another half an hour. Thirty entire minutes. Why did they want to take their sweet time? Well, they had to clear and load the jet, make sure he was stable enough that he wouldn't fall over, check his straps to be sure he couldn't free himself, all that other shit that made Alois feel positively dreadful inside. His stomach churned and his breath grew increasingly more ragged as time went on.

"Hey, you," he shot the firmest whine he could at the guard adjusting the straps, "please, sir, put me to sleep. I don't want to be awake for the ride, I'm scared, please, just give me a pill or something."

The man almost looked at him, a cold deviance radiating from just above the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, yeah, yeah, I can see why that- might be an issue, but- maybe just loosen these straps a bit? Y'see I can't really breathe and I-"

The guard promptly turned on his heel and exited the jet. He would not have it. He would not allow it. His fate was sealed.

That was it, then. Alois was going to die on this plane. If not from the crash, then surely because of suffocation. Already he could feel his ribs breaking with every breath he took, the air beginning to feel like dust and smog inside his lungs. He wanted out. He wanted out. He wanted out.

Ciel entered the plane just then. He looked up from his boarding pass and was met with the most hideous sight he thought he'd ever seen. His nose crinkled in disgust, the ever present feeling of revolt setting in. It always seemed he'd find his best catch in a compromising position, be it submissive or downright embarrassing, but what would he classify this as?

A hyperventilating, shaking mess on a dolly sat in front of him. It was a long, svelte, grotesque looking thing, the way it moved so violently upon each tremor bringing a sick kind of joy to the detective's heart. The tip of the thing's nose blooming crimson as it flowed clear and ran down the thing's lip, its mouth was cracked and dry and abused by poignant teeth. Its silvery flaxen mop atop its head was mussed, and the locks and strands and knots shook along with the rest of its body. The eyes were hidden by the thick tresses and thank god they were, Ciel thought, because if he ever caught them staring he would not hesitate to make sure they never stared again. He hated them. He hated this display as a whole.

And yet he didn't. In spite of everything he was witnessing, the grueling task of taking care of this... thing, he couldn't help but think to himself,

How beautiful.

Yes, that was what this was. Simply divine, utterly captivating, beautiful. Alois could never be ugly, he decided, because it was not in his nature, and because it brought Ciel pleasure to look at him no matter what state he was in. It was not love, no, not even close. It was more so hatred than anything else. He hated him. He hated him so much that it was practically orgasmic to see him suffer like this. He was lovely when he was normal, and that was simply a matter of genetics. But when he was disgusting, when he was a wreck, when there was a possibility that he could pass out or die at any moment- that was when he was truly beautiful.

Ciel left his thought at that. If he continued, he was positive he would come to some unwieldily and false conclusion that would only aid in his anger, so he recognized it, made peace with it, and ceased. He strode into the jet and slammed his briefcase onto one of the chairs and marched to his capture.

The poor boy in the straps wept as Phantomhive got closer, still seizing tragically. He couldn't help it anymore, he was totally petrified. Ciel grimaced, the thing even more unsightly up close. He had to put an end to this behavior, otherwise his already cumbersome flight would be made even worse.

He gripped Alois by the throat and forced his head up, causing the towhead to gasp and lurch forward.

"Why are you shaking?"

"It's- not my fault, it's-"

"I know. Why are you shaking?"

"We're gonna crash," the blond rasped his reply hurriedly.

"We won't. Is that all?" Alois shook his head no. "What else?"

He swallowed, "My restraints, they're- too tight."

"Don't think about them then."

"You think it's that easy?" With that, Ciel pressed down on Alois' neck, just next to his Adam's Apple. His thumb struck his Vagus nerve, and the blond cried no more. He fell limp on his dolly with a yawn-like sigh, still and silent.

The bluenet stared at the body for a moment, awed at how quickly silence befell the plane before he gingerly pressed two fingers to the unconscious man's temple. There was a pulse, thank goodness. He grunted in relief.

"You could have been a bit less sexual about that, I think," a voice behind the detective chimed.

Ciel turned, surprised to find his good friend boarding the jet. "Sebastian," he raised his brows and let go of his game.

"A pressure point, sir? And the one in the neck, to ready it out?"

The other huffed. "He'll be fine. He was squirming like a loon. If I didn't stop him immediately, there would be no rest on this flight."

"I see. Though, for someone who supposedly regrets making love to that one," he gestured to the silent man, "your tactic was questionable."

"It shut him up then and there, I see no problem with it." Ciel folded his arms and swiveled away from his companion. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

"You can't possibly think they would really make you go to a new country with a dangerous fugitive alone. Elizabeth and I will be accompanying you to ensure that the process goes smoothly."

"Oh great. I need backup so they send two whole people. How resourceful," he remarked. "Wait, Elizabeth? She's head of the London branch, she shouldn't be coming."

"She was demoted. They found that her leadership skills were largely inadequate in such a position and she was given back her old post. Her father will be taking over as Chief of Police."

"I see," Ciel sighed and began to walk to his seat. He sat with a grunt and crossed his legs. "At any rate, when will Elizabeth arrive? I'm already dreading this trip enough, I don't want to have to wait any longer."

"She'll be taking a separate aircraft. Her father feared for her safety traveling alongside him, so special accommodations were made for her comfort," Sebastian explained coolly, his signature genteel smile consistently gracing his fine features.

He carefully set his bag in the overhead compartment- at his height he hardly needed to reach- and shut it, coming back down to rest next to his associate. He pulled a pair of spectacles out of his breast pocket and sat them atop his nose, a book he'd hidden in his coat now placed in front of him. Sudoku, of course. That was one of his favorite pastimes, the oddball he was.

Sebastian really was quite unusual, Ciel reminded himself. He was very attractive, as most people working in his department were. Tall, dark, and handsome was his perfect description, with his sharp jawline, silky hair, long face, and burgundy eyes. And yet, his outward appearance was one of the very things that made him so peculiar. There was never a hair out of place, never an imperfection on the skin, nor even a drop of sweat.

He always spoke with refined language that no one else was able to match in eloquence or execution, a diction unlike any other. Not to mention his attire, which was always the same color scheme- black, white, and black. It was almost as if he was incapable of wearing any other colors. The man's etiquette was something to strive after, although sometimes he was so gentlemanly that it was nearly frightening. He was just perfect, too perfect, and it was bemusing to those around him.

Ciel supposed that that was the reason they were friends. They got along because of how eerily similar they were and because of how they appeared to their colleagues. They had the same ticks, the same interests, the same parts. And that was why they would remain friends. Never anything more than that. They were too alike, their camaraderie was perfect as it was- just like the individuals involved. It would only be surreal and boring if they pursued a further relationship.

That, and neither man was interested in the other.

"What page are you on?" Ciel inquired, scooting closer to his compatriot.

"Sixty-seven out of one hundred. I'm onto the more difficult ones, so if you feel like helping I suggest you use your deductive skills to the best of your ability."

"Since when would I not? Show me the chart."

~oOo~

The flight lasted 11 hours and 25 minutes, during which Ciel had (almost proudly) done a variety of odd jobs.

Firstly, he had aided Sebastian in completing his Sudoku puzzles, much to his satisfaction and the other's chagrin. "I'll have to not only spend money on a new book now," the elder had lamented, "but American money that I don't yet have!"

After that he'd gotten up and moved around a bit, floundered about trying to get comfortable, and successfully managed to take a four hour nap. Then Alois woke up.

He was calmer from when Ciel had seen him last, and groggier too. Seeming to have gotten over his fear of planes, many of his nerves were relieved, but he was still upset over the tightness of his restraints.

Neither detective was particularly pleased with his whining, however, so Ciel took it upon himself to knock him out yet again.

After that, Sebastian had discovered that there was gin in the lower compartment to their right. And of course it was cold, making it the detective's favorite drink. He couldn't help but have a sip or two. Not enough to get tipsy, however. It would be extremely unprofessional if he showed up to work hungover, and Ciel really did not want to leave a bad taste in his new employer's mouth.

"Are they making you stay, too?" He had asked Sebastian as the man in black poured them drinks.

He chuckled under his breath, beginning to shut the bottle after he had poured Ciel's drink. "A part of me thinks that no matter my answer to that question, you'll be angry."

"Not true," the other countered, "I'm merely curious."

"Curiousity. Is that what you'd call it?" The bottle was set back on the shelf of the cabinet, door shutting behind it. "I think, perhaps, that you're just trying to have another reason to be mad about this."

"There is no deeper meaning, Sebastian, really. Just answer the question."

He sighed. "No, I am not being forced to stay."

"Honestly," Ciel groaned and fell back in his seat, "this has got to be the worst planning I've ever seen! Who in their right mind would think to send 'backup' for me- which I don't even need- but not have said 'backup' stay long enough to help me?!" Sebastian just sat ankle on knee, quietly sipping his beverage. He knew this was coming.

"And why should I sacrifice my life in London because of him? He's a horrible person, I caught him, he got the death penalty for his crimes. I should be receiving a marvelous paycheck and national praise, he should be flying out here alone! And yes, it is severely unjust that he got such a penalty, but his actions were despicable! He deserves to carry out a life sentence, but I certainly don't! If I-"

"As much I enjoy listening to your ranting," Sebastian's eyes were shut and you could almost see the white knuckle grip he had on his shot glass, "what's done is done, and there's nothing we can do to change it. Why not try to enjoy the circumstances? Think- you're going to a beautiful state in a new country to continue your detective work. You get state of the art living accommodations and a salary to rival that of the upper middle class. What's to complain about?"

"It's all too sudden. It's happening too fast and it's completely against my will. I never wanted to move to America, and I certainly didn't want to become a criminal's chauffeur. But here we are," Ciel exclaimed. He had folded his arms and legs to grumpily peer through the window at the clouds, sick of speaking about the subject.

Sebastian didn't argue with him, he knew Ciel better than that. If he tried to reel the conversation back, it would only end in a perversely ornery detective who sought to destroy everything in his path. Really, his temper was comparable to the likes of a toddler's. He hated to lose, and he hated being proven wrong or embarrassed. It was something that needed to change, but it likely never would happen. Sebastian was too good of a person to ever hurt his dear friend's feelings.

After the conversation had ended a brooding session began, and that lasted about an hour. The last hour and twenty-five minutes was just Ciel writing in his planner, trying to figure out the next week of his life. He had to cancel all of his appointments because he was in an entirely different country, find his address, move his furniture and personal belongings in if necessary, and find out all he could about his new job.

He had to admit, though he detested the idea of it, he was a bit enthralled about working in a prison. Sebastian did have a point, this was a new chapter in his life and it was time he started looking at it a bit more positively. Being around all those inmates would be majorly beneficial to him- he could learn criminal behavior firsthand, which would make his job all the more easier. He'd even gain more recognition if he was the best detective in America and the U.K... Perhaps this wouldn't be that bad after all.

As soon as he had that thought, the plane landed, and Ciel was the first one off. He rushed to claim his baggage and raced to arrivals, never stopping to see if Alois or Sebastian were behind him. This was his life now. He wouldn't slow down for anyone anymore.

Now where was that blasted sign? He could have sworn that Spears had said it would say "Aloysius"- or something of the sort anyway. Where was it? Was their flight early? Were they late? Could they really be so unprofessional as to change their sign the same day he was told what it would say? He searched around the crowded area, looking for something, anything that would reassure him that he wasn't stranded in Worcester.

All the time he spent worrying allowed for an agitated Sebastian, wheeling a stuporous Alois, to come through the terminal and catch up to the bluenet. He didn't need to hear either of them speak to know they were behind him- he could sense their presence, the tiny hairs on his back prickling and buzzing with the knowledge of their existence.

"I can't find them, Sebastian! I don't know where they could be, I've searched the whole place up and down! They're just not here, how fucking kind of them-"

"Please direct your attention to your immediate left," the raven-haired male interrupted eagerly. Ciel did as told, for he wasn't in the mood to deal with this situation anymore, and voila. There was a man holding their sign.

The detective suddenly felt very sheepish, and he shoved his hands in his coat pockets as his face turned beet red. "Oh," he turned away, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows.

The group started toward the man, making haste as it was currently 1:16 in the morning and they were all jet lagged beyond belief.

"Ah!" The man caught sight of them and waved his arm for them, beaming. He was a spritely fellow, young with auburn hair and a small mustache that matched. He wore a green coat and a similar shade on his cap, his pants black and shoes a leathery brown. "You must be Ciel. Oh, and that's Alois, isn't it...?" He was taken aback by the blond's horrifying appearance.

"Oh, please, I won't bite," he joked lightheartedly, a smidge of a smile showing through the bars on his mask. The man laughed nervously, but he seemed to collect himself. Alois' disposition was the opposite of what he had expected.

"I can't when I've got this mask on my face." Trancy's voice stayed the same, airy and kind, but there was a different intonation behind his words this time around, and it sent a chill down his victim's spine. He was afraid all over again.

"Right," he gulped. "Anyway, my name is Fred Abberline. I'm a detective over at Aloysius myself," he spoke more to Ciel, holding out his hand to shake with a grin on his charming face. Ciel did not shake his hand, he merely blinked uninterestedly.

"Mmhm. Will you be driving us tonight?" The bluenet pondered.

"Well, yes and no. I'll be taking Sebastian and Elizabeth to their hotel- once she shows up, anyway, but you'll be dropping Alois at the prison before you head home!"

"Excuse me?" Ciel's voice was laced with acetone, "I have to drive him?"

"Yes, did Will not explain that to you?" Abberline's face melted into one of confusion, his right brow raised. "Detectives from out of state drive their assigned partner to the prison upon arriving. It's an exercise that we feel helps build a connection between the two of you so that you can work better and more efficiently!"

There was a moment of silence after Abberline spoke. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Alois chimed in, his lip curled in distaste.

"I have to put myself in danger for the sake of some 'connection-building exercise'? I don't think so." For once, Ciel and Alois seemed to agree on something. A truly amazing feat it was, and the two of them turned their heads to nod and acknowledge the other.

Abberline smiled apprehensively, rubbing the back of his neck because he really was not joking and he just wanted to get out of there because this was such an uncomfortable situation to be in. "I'm... sorry you feel that way. But that's the way it has to go," he pulled a set of keys out of his coat pocket and dropped them in Ciel's hand. "You're parked in the A-lot, row 63. It's about an hour and a half long drive, nothing too bad! I'll send you the directions to your place once you've successfully delivered Alois, alright?"

"What- no, no, not alright, I refuse to do this," Ciel protested, shoving the car keys back in Abberline's face. "You drive him."

"Ehehe... I really can't sir, please, this is just protocol..."

"Well, change the bloody protocol for once, because I'm not doing it." People were beginning to stare. As if they hadn't been already; two well dressed gentlemen carting around another man in a straitjacket and a mask was a queer sight to begin with, but now there was an argument happening between the strange group. It was only human nature that one would stare.

This was exactly why Sebastian never pressed further if he'd begun to get Ciel riled up. The man in black clapped his pissy companion on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You're causing a scene, sir. Please, just take the keys and go."

The bluenet scoffed and looked around, not believing his friend's words at first. But sure enough, a billion pairs of eyes were on him, some moving to get through to the exit, some stopped to watch and contemplate. He breathed, taking in the scene in utter disbelief and reining himself back in. What was he doing? "I-" He lowered his eyes to the ground, ashamed of his behavior, "My apologies, sir. I let my temper get the best of me. I'll take Alois now and be on my way. Goodbye, Sebastian," he took hold of the dolly and began to wheel the blond away.

"I will see you in the morning, friend," Sebastian responded with his one-of-a-kind smile and turned his head to search for Elizabeth. Abberline, on the other hand, stood puzzled and shocked in the same awkward position for the next two minutes. He really could not believe what had just happened to him, and from someone he respected no less. He was already dreading seeing Ciel the next day.

~oOo~

The car was small. Ciel and Alois had hiked for at least twenty minutes to get to the parking spot, and the car was fucking small.

Now it was a nice car, there was no denying that. It was a white Porsche 911 Carrera, a very expensive model from a very expensive brand. The detective was honestly very surprised that they had gotten such a car, as it was rather attention grabbing when the whole purpose of the vehicle was to take it to and from work and to use it on stakeouts if necessary.

But this was a really nice car. And it was way too small to fit the both of them in their current states.

There was no way Alois could get inside if he was still on his dolly- hell, the thing wouldn't even fit in the trunk if they tried. They were both staring at the automobile for some time, hoping that maybe, by some miracle, if they stared at it long enough it would grow a few inches taller. That was the only plan they had at the moment, really. But, completely unpredictably, it didn't seem to be working.

The pair looked at each other knowingly, sharing the same thought that they simply had to undo all of Alois' restraints, as unnerving as that was. Ciel groaned and got to work, loosening all the straps around his hands, arms, feet and legs to free him. The blond didn't mind one bit, and as soon as he loosened the one around his waist he breathed out as largely as humanly possible.

"OhthankgodIcanbreathe," he expelled, eyes fluttering open and shut as he drew in a few more breaths. Freedom! He thought as he stood back up, beginning to stretch what he could. He leaned south to pop his back, then east and west to crack his hips, and then he did the same with his neck, creak-crick-cracking all over the place.

"Jesus," Ciel's face tightened, "you sound like a glow stick. C'mon, get in the car."

"Wait- aren't you forgetting something?" Alois exclaimed.

"No, I don't think so. What?" He turned to see the towhead's eyes widen in distress and anger, shaking his torso purposefully. Oh, right. The straitjacket. "What, you want that off too? No, you don't need that, you'll fit inside the car now anyway. Just get in."

Alois gave him the best possible glare, one filled with all the venom and ferocity he could possibly manage in one look.

"Fine, I'll take it off." And he did as such.

"And?" Alois still was not satisfied, placing his fists on his hips dramatically and raising his chin.

"The mask, too?"

"Do it!"

"Why? You'll fit, let's just go!"

"Get it off of me!"

"Ugh," Ciel groaned and ripped the mouthpiece off. "Better?!"

"Much," Alois grinned with satisfaction, hands now fiddling around with his jaw to pop it as he walked towards and into the car. Ciel stood with his mouth agape, squinted and irritated eyes watching him from behind.

"What the hell," the detective moaned to himself, marching for the right door of the vehicle before Alois got out of the left side and started walking to Ciel's side. "What are you doing now?!"

"It's America! The passenger seat is on the right instead of the left!"

"Then why did you go to the left first?!"

"I forgot!"

"Ugh!" Ciel stormed to the other side of the car and pulled the door open with all his might, stomping inside and slamming it shut. He buckled his seatbelt and adjusted the seat and threw his head on the center of the wheel, not hard enough to make the horn go off but hard enough to feel it on his forehead. Taking the moment to come to his senses and cool down, he took a deep breath in and out, in and out, in and out until he was calm.

Then he raised his head on his final exhale, opened his eyes, and turned the ignition. The car started with a lovely purr, one that Alois couldn't help but mimic.

"Really." Ciel remarked at his immaturity.

"What? I was just- trying to lighten the mood a bit," the blond pouted, crossing his arms and bringing his knees up to his chin. He sighed, "Just drive."

Ciel did as told.

They were on the road for about fifteen minutes when the detective noticed how silent the ride was. Neither of them had spoken a word to the other, Alois staring out the window while Ciel had kept his eyes on the road. Normally Phantomhive valued silence, but tonight in this Porsche it just felt alien for it to be so quiet. If this was really going to be a bonding experience for the both of them, they needed to have something to connect over. What better thing to strike up conversation in a car than music?

Ciel made sure the road was clear and straight before he reached over and pulled out his phone. There was a phone cord already inside the stereo system- which kind of explained why the prison had bought this car for Ciel, as it was now clear that it had been used and was therefore cheaper- so he just plugged his device into that and hit shuffle on his music. Maps by Maroon 5 began to play.

That caught Alois' attention, his head pricking up at the first few notes. He whipped his head around to look at the stereo, wanting to see the name of the song that was playing. "The hell is this shit," he scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"You don't know Maroon 5?" Ciel questioned, peering out the windshield and setting off his turn signal.

"No. They sound like shit, I hate this."

"Don't call Maroon 5 shit, I love Maroon 5!"

"Well then you like garbage music. I can't stand this, give me that," he started clawing for Ciel's phone and snatched it right out the little cupholder he'd set it in.

"Hey, put that back! Don't touch my phone!"

"Shh, I'm gonna put it back, I will. Just- lemme put on actual good music first." He started tapping away on the keyboard and entered something into the search bar, then pressed play on the first option that showed up.

Once the song had started, Alois had turned up the volume, turned off Ciel's phone and put it back, just as he said he would. He smiled and bit his lip, moving his head in time with the drums. When the guitars came in, he headbanged and started to lip-sync to the track, his leg now bouncing in time with the beat.

He continued this until the singer had stopped, and suddenly he started full out pumping his fist, doing something crazy with the other arm, whipping his hair around and dancing so erratically he was almost in Ciel's personal space.

"What the fuck is this? What are you doing?!"

"Veruca Salt, baby! Most underrated band of the nineties, they pumped out some straight bangers in their day!"

"They sound like a group of angsty teenage girls who want revenge on their maths teacher."

"That's because they are," Alois stopped dancing for just a moment to say that, then went right back to gyrating.

Needless to say, Ciel regretted his decision to turn on the music. "What're you even doing listening to music from the nineties, anyway? That was decades ago, no one listens to that shit anymore."

"Are you kidding? I regularly listen to shit way older than this! I'm much more of a seventies kinda guy, but the eighties are pretty great too! The nineties were..., in terms of rock n' roll, but Veruca's one of the better bands that came out of it!"

"The seventies?"

"Yup!"

"Oh good lord," Ciel rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long car trip.

And a long car trip it was. Alois played more of his rock music, and Ciel hated all of it. He liked classical music and he liked Maroon 5, that was it. There was no more room in his heart for any other genres or songs, just those select few. So when the blond had mentioned that he had an entire playlist of seventies and eighties music, one that was almost twelve hours long... Ciel drove a few miles above the speed limit.

They arrived at Aloysius Penitentiary around 3:28 in the morning, much to the dismay of Phantomhive.

"I'm going to be exhausted on my first day of work because of your fucking seventies music," he had chastised Alois as he was getting out of the car.

"Yeah, yeah, you can be mad at me later. Just go home for now and listen to your Maroon 5 or whatever," the blond had quipped as he walked away, heading towards two guards at the front gate. They were holding handcuffs, and they smacked them onto Alois' wrists as they guided him inside.

He had turned around to smile at the detective in his car, waving to the best of his ability in chains. "G'night, Ciel! Thank you for the ride to prison! See you in the morning!"

Ciel did not say goodnight back. He waved halfheartedly, watched the doors of the place shut behind him, pulled out his phone, and dialed Abberline.

"Hello?" The youthful voice on the other side of the phone answered right after the first ring.

"Hello, this is Ciel. Alois has been delivered to the prison. Will you please send me my address?"

"Oh! Wonderful, that's wonderful. Yes, I'll do that, just one moment," there was scrambling on the other line. "Okay, it's- do you have a pen?"

"I'm just putting it in my GPS."

"Ahh, okay, perfect. Alright, it's- 1894 North Macabre Drive. Did you get that okay?"

"Hold on... yeah, I've got it. Thank you, Abberline."

"For sure, Mr. Phantomhive. You have a good night now-"

"And? Um, before you go, I wanted to say that I'm not proud of the way I acted tonight. I was very rude to you and it was extremely uncalled for. I hope you can forgive me for this transgression."

"Oh. Oh, don't worry about it, sir, I understand. I appreciate that very much, thank you."

"Mm. Goodnight now."

"Goodnight."

And now he was in good standing once more.


	7. A Stairway To Heaven And A Highway To Hell

When Ciel turned onto his street, he wasn't sure what to expect.  
It was still far too soon for his liking, this whole endeavor, and the promise of his new "living arrangements" did little to ease his mind. He wished that at least he would have been able to have some say in the house-hunting the prison had done for him. After all, he knew nothing about the area, nothing about the homes, the budget, the neighborhood- he was utterly clueless. And he was not one for being clueless.   
     He knew not what was going on in this dire situation, and it ticked him off to no end. The silence in his vehicle did nothing to enhance the experience, either.  
     It felt odd with nothing playing in the background after all that time. He was glad to be rid of that dreadful noise Alois called music, but it was oddly lonely, almost depressing without it. He couldn't think without it anymore. Dammit, he shook his head as his hand reached for the dial, turning the knob until it reached the radio.   
The station was playing modern pop, which was probably the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment. Rock? No, he'd just gotten an earful of that, and it was more than enough to quench any desire he had to listen to more. He flipped it again. Indie. Eh, he wasn't much into what he'd heard of the song playing. Flip. Rap. Absolutely not. Flip.   
Ah, a jazz station. And it was a good piece too, Ciel decided as he checked the small screen for the name of the song. Like Someone In Love, composed by Bill Evans. It was a slow song, showy and yet tender- it gave him a hint of old Charlie Brown cartoons. Very easily did it give off the emotion that it wanted to portray, soothing the detective's wiry nerves and seemingly pulling back his chair so he could settle into his carseat. He did love a good jazz composition. When done right, it could even bring a small smile to his lips, much like the one he wore now as his shoulders sunk into a proper posture. Now he was calm, no other outside thoughts daring to give him the slightest bit of anxiety. It was like they'd all been warded off by the piano's whip-of-a moan. The only thing that mattered in this moment was driving. Getting to where he needed to go without a hitch.   
"Hmm... There's Cornwall... Barnaby- ah, Macabre." Ciel tended to talk to himself. He didn't have a problem with it, and neither did anyone else, really. That was because he only ever did it when he was alone, but he had an inkling that it wasn't so out of the ordinary for others to do it, too.  
     He turned onto the street and was greeted with large, fanciful houses made of glass and stone, big windows and slanted ceilings strewn across the horizon and making Ciel's eyes go wide. The lawns were lush and green, with shrubs and trees spattered wherever they saw fit, while the driveways that sat atop them were a light sandy marble brick, paved expertly and gracious to the touch. Come to think of it, the road Ciel was driving on had been completely smooth and black this entire time- this was a rich neighborhood.   
1700, 1763, 1832... 1894, there it was. A lovely replica of the other houses, but it obviously had its own special charms. For example, the slanted glass roof was wavier than the others, just a simple slight curve, and the bluey-purple hue it carried was also a nice touch. Next to and above the garage was artfully jagged stone, the kind used regularly in modern architecture. Three stories tall, it carried several lavishly furnished rooms, the bottom floor visible from the outside. Each floor got progressively smaller from the ground up, making whole the house look as if it were shifted to left.  
Palm trees and square bushes made up the yard, and they made the entire thing come full circle, the house effortlessly stylish in such a way that Ciel did not mind the geometrics of it all. In fact, he found he quite liked it. Preferred it, even, from the quaintness of his old home back in Britain. He liked this. It demanded importance and attention, just as he did, beckoning all pairs of eyes to stare at its magnificence and originality. It radiated wealth and prestige. The detective felt it suited him.  
He stopped the car and opened the door, stepping foot onto the handsome pavement for the first time and sighing in relief. Thank god it's not what I expected. With that, he started for the door.  
     The inside was even more grandiose than the outside, modern in its extravagance and clean in its fashion. The floor was comprised of white tiles, pure white marble that Ciel could see his stately appearance in if he peered hard enough. To his left was a kitchen that hugged the corner of the wall and then some, hosting white island and silver and black and gray appliances splashed wherever they saw fit; to his right, a curved two-step staircase that led to an oval shaped floor with an unusually shaped sofa, a white fur rug, a fireplace, and a large television mounted on a monochromatic cabinet.   
Perhaps his favorite feature, though, was the wall. He had taken note of a small black bar right next to the door, and the only context he was given over what it controlled was a set of buttons labelled "+" and "-". Always a curious man, he pressed the plus, and the walls were suddenly opaque. It took him by surprise- the white brick looked almost as real as the shirt on his back. He even had to check outside just to be sure he wasn't going mad- and sure enough, he couldn't see through the walls he knew were glass.  
The home was certainly chic, there was no denying that. And honestly, Ciel was so glad it came furnished because he really knew nothing about interior design. The only thing he knew it needed were some personal touches- pictures to go in the deep-set shelves, his favorite throw pillows draped across the beds (wherever they were), a music player of some kind so he could always have some jazz playing in the back of his busy life- small things that would make a world of difference to him.  
Ah, but right now he was too tired. Too tired to think about it, anyway. So, without much thought to look around the rest of the house, the great detective climbed onto the couch, snatched the blanket from the top of the thing and wrapped himself inside of it. This is it, he thought to himself. This is it.  
With that, he was sound asleep.  
~oOo~  
     "This is it?" Alois' eyes fell dark and gloomy as he stared at his cell, his neck slumping forward. "It looks like a bloody cage."  
     "That's because it is one," Abberline said matter-of-factly. "We figured a simple cell would be an inconvenience to a person of your... nature. And you would have been a danger to the inmates and staff around you. It was really the best we could offer, Mr. Trancy."  
"Hmm." He wasn't necessarily satisfied with the answer he received, but he supposed it would have to do. "I suppose it would've also been a danger to send a guard that knew sentences shouldn't start with conjunctions?"  
Abberline opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it, a faint tint appearing on his cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed, "I- You know what I meant. I don't want to cause any trouble, now. Please just get inside."  
Alois' eyes started searching the room, once again analyzing it; he knew he promised himself he wouldn't do that anymore, but he figured if he would be living here for the next four to five years he would want to know what was around him. Concrete floor, concrete brick walls, cubbies with several towels to the right, a shower outside the cell to his left, a walkway with eleven doors that circled the room from above- it was all very plain. He kept ending up in rooms he did not like and that bugged him.  
It was then that he discovered something that exceeded his interest. To be frank, it made Alois scoff when he discovered it because it was such a stupid mistake, but it surely made things much easier. And they call this a maximum security prison.  
     Alois sauntered into his cell, smirking to himself as he passed Abberline. He went up on the balls of his feet and turned to face the man as he rustled with the keys to the enclosure. He watched him for some time, simply staring as he fumbled and cursed and tried every single key on the ring with no success.  
     "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Urgh, what'd I-?"   
     Without so much as a second thought, Alois' hand reached through the bars of the cage and snatched up Abberline's collar, shoving him forward so that his head collided with the bars. The hit caused the poor man to crumple to the ground and drop the keys, leaving Alois with an apt opportunity to grab them. The proud criminal gleefully stuffed the keys in his pocket and marched right out and into the open, being careful to step over the unconscious sap in front of his cell.  
     He went to the cubbies, rummaging through them to see if he could find anything that would help him out. He was stressed out- he needed release.   
     Cloth. A soft but only mildly stretchy fabric that he would normally despise for such an activity, but it was the best he had at the moment so it would have to do. Alois tugged out what he could, finding that the textile was in a continuous stream- the more he pulled, the more came out. He realized he would have to cut it. Scissors... Ah, he could just use the keys. He drew his tool and slashed the stuff right down the middle, and when he pulled away he had a crooked-ended load of cloth.  
     He wondered why a prison would need so much, especially in this room, and then he remembered that they thought he was criminally insane and may need to be restrained on a whim. It was the same cloth that made up the straitjacket he wore earlier, tan and prickly but mobile enough to work for its job.  
He got to work almost immediately, pausing for a moment to sever the long pants of his jumpsuit in favor of a more tight fitting, shorter suit. Securing it to the top middle bar of his cell, the piece of cloth was long enough to wrap around two times and reach just above the floor; which, thankfully, was the perfect length. Alois made absolutely sure he tied it tight- after all, if it went anywhere he would be in deep shit and he certainly didn't want that.  
Yes! He was done now, and the result was simply beautiful. It almost looked like Rapunzel's hair, flowing and elegant, and Alois had no choice but to caress it and pretend he was a prince for a few fleeting moments. After all, anyone in his situation, upon seeing such great beauty, would definitely pretend   
that they were a handsome prince stroking the cloth-like locks of a lovely princess.   
Of course, he wouldn't really care about her. No, not even a little bit. Not when he was so infatuated with men. Just her hair. Climbing it would give him a great upper body workout.  
So that was precisely what the princely Alois spent his morning doing. Climbing and flipping and winding and falling on his makeshift aerial silk from 3 AM 'til 7.   
He had always found solace and relaxation in using one of these. The first time he used one, it must have been two years ago now, he remembered holding it and instinctively beginning a series of tricks and spins he didn't even know he could do- it was already muscle memory to him. It was a strange phenomenon, as he still to this day could not recall learning, but regardless, the activity helped him unwind.   
He climbed and spread his legs, catching both of the cloths under one thigh and over the other, then bringing his legs together so that the fabric cradled his hips. Flipping to the side so that he was perpendicular to the ground, he took the cloth from behind him and pulled it over his head, still gripping it as he searched above him for the right piece.  
     Aha, he got it. With a hold on it, he pulled his body up and through the hole between the first cloth and the second so that he made himself a seat. Now securely floating in the air as if he were on a swing, he grabbed his left ankle and arched his back, falling behind him so that he was upside down. This was probably Alois' favorite stretch. He worked for a good week trying to master it, and once he did, he found that it worked almost all of his body at once- a feat he had been dying to find an exercise for.  
     Alois loved to stretch. He loved to "work out," he loved to exercise, he loved to be physically active in any way he possibly could- just as long as he worked up a sweat. Of course, he wasn't as muscular as one might expect him to be upon hearing this information- in fact he was quite svelte. Just barely toned all over, he hardly fit the physical disposition of a fitness junkie, but muscles weren't what mattered to him.  
     The fruits of his labor were not the giant arms or the meaty chest other athletes possessed, but rather the feeling he got in the moment. The sensation of pushing his body to its limit and then past that loosened him up, surprisingly. Made him feel so present and calm, connected with himself if you wanted to get spiritual about it. Stretching was a ritual to him, a sacred ritual in which he derived the utmost relaxation.   
Thus, he sat there, dangling freely above the ground without a care in the world. It was peaceful.  
     And then Ciel clocked in for work.  
A wave of predatory nature washed upon the building and everyone seemed to feel its effects. All except Alois, of course. While the prisoners Ciel passed in the halls of cells cowered in fear of the aura he emitted, while even the guards avoided his gaze because they were terrified he might eat them alive if they looked his way, Alois felt no such worry in the face of danger. He could, of course, sense the tension in the place, but he had no clue it was caused by his fearsome boy-toy. He brushed it off as someone getting hurt and continued on with his play.  
The two doors separating Alois' cell from the rest of the prisoners swung open to reveal a very agitated detective, startling the poor thing on the cloth.  
"Jesus! You couldn't have knocked?!" He exclaimed, sitting back up.  
"There's no need for knocking, this isn't a bed and breakfast- What are you doing?!" Alois was seated properly now, high above the ground and appearing as if he were on a swing in the park.  
"Well, the cameras were off, so I made an aerial silk. There was a boatload of cloth in that cubby over there, so I just snatched some up and strung it. They're quite calming, actually, they make me feel so-"  
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. The cameras were off?"  
"Yeah, see?" He pointed up to the wall just below the balcony, where a tiny white rectangle rested sadly. "They're facing downward and there's no red dot. Not recording."  
Ciel had to process this for a moment. They really forgot to turn on the cameras? In perhaps the most important cell in the entire vicinity? How could people make such a vital mistake like that?! Oh, the absolute idiocy he was going to be faced with made his blood boil hot in anger. "I- How is that even plausi- ugh," he groaned, lowering his head and rubbing his temple to ease his furrowed brow.   
"Nevermind that- for now. Where is Abberline? The first thing I wake up to is a phone call saying he's gone missing after entering your cell and so I have to clock in early to investigate it. In case you haven't noticed, it wasn't really the way I wanted to start my first day."  
Alois kicked out his leg and laxly gestured with his head, "In that broom closet. I knew he wasn't going to stay knocked out for long, so I figured if I stuffed him in there he wouldn't cause any trouble."  
"...You locked him in a cupboard?"  
"No, not a cupboard, a broom closet. You know, you really must pay better attention when someone is speaking to you. It's quite rude!"  
Ciel could not take much more of this and it had only been three minutes. He grunted and pulled his keys from his pocket, searching to find the right one before starting to rustle with the lock. When he succeeded in opening the door, poor Abberline dashed out, not bothering to thank his savior as he ran for the hills.   
Detective Phantomhive shut his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. "Alois," he began sternly, straightening his back, "the fact that you found this behavior acceptable is beyond me. Even further, the fact that I'm being forced to work with you of all people. However, if we're going to be working together from now on we need to establish some ground rules. Rule number one: absolutely no more mischief." He stalked toward the blond and held out his hand. "The keys."  
Alois glared, entering a stare-off with Ciel as he tried his very best to defy him. His icy cold glower proved strong and effective, but it was no match when compared to Ciel's murderous scowl- especially after he raised his brows expectantly at him. Lord, could that look make a man weak in the knees. Feeling as if he had no choice but to obey for the first time in his life, Alois reached into his pocket and gracefully placed the keys in Ciel's palm, much to the latter's satisfaction.  
He wrapped his fingers around them and stuffed them into his back pocket, prompting Alois to roll his neck in annoyance and pout at his compatriot.   
     "And now, whatever you called this," Ciel gestured to the contraption, awarding him a winning terrified gaze from Alois.  
     "No! You can't! I worked so hard on it!"  
     "I'm sure you can't have spent more than five minutes on it," he strode inside and started trying to dismantle it, not seeming to care the other man was seated.  
     "But- it'll keep me in shape, make me better fit for missions and shit! You'd be doing yourself a disservice if you-"  
     "I don't care. Hop off. Now."  
     "No," Alois continued to protest, crossing his arms and looking away, "as long as I'm on it you can't do shit. If you pull it down I'll break my leg."  
     "Doesn't matter. You're a prisoner, I don't have to protect you."  
     "Don't you think it'd really suck having a crippled teammate?"  
     Ciel supposed that was a good point. But he was full of good points, more than Alois, of course, and so he countered, "I don't have to take you anywhere."  
     "Oh, trust me," he leaned forward menacingly, "You'll want to."  
     "What's that supposed to mean?"  
     "You forget how good of a shot I am. I'd be a viable asset in the field, especially in dangerous territory."  
     "You don't need your legs to shoot. And besides, you couldn't even shoot me in the casino."  
     "One miss out of eighty nine total shots. Don't forget how many of your police crew I sent to the hospital."  
     "They all wound up fine. If your shot is the only reason I should keep you around, I see no problem in letting you go."  
     "You were just saying how we need to establish ground rules if we're to keep working together! That's why this entire conversation is happening, and you're threatening to incapacitate me over an aerial silk! You're nothing but a bloody hypocrite, y'know that?"  
     Ciel thrust a cruel finger in Alois' face, his eyes going wide. "Don't you ever call me a hypocrite."  
     "Why, what's the-"  
     "I'm fucking serious. I will not let you walk all over me and treat me as your doormat. The second ground rule we need to establish is respect, and you don't have a lick of it in you. You are my assistant, and you will follow my orders, not the other way around. If you don't, I will make your meaningless life as miserable as I possibly fucking can. Is that understood?"  
     Alois froze. He was completely rendered silent. As he realized that his place in this world had hardly changed at all, the spark of fiery determination went out of him, his posture stiffening and eyes glossing over. He felt empty and lightheaded at the thought, his heart beating harder against his chest. Not again, not again. He lowered his head, staring helplessly at the ground and the man before him. "Yes, sir."   
     Alois slunk out of his position, lowering himself to the ground slowly like a zombie. He stood there for a few moments in shame before trudging over to his bed, falling on top of it and crossing his arms.  
     Ciel found the whole display rather dramatic, rolling his eyes at the blond. As he went back to getting the monstrosity off of his cage, he caught a glimpse of Alois' sullen expression and he was suddenly overcome with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely this was no way to establish a good relationship between the two of them.  
     What would that matter, though? He wasn't here to be his friend, no, quite the opposite. Alois was too neurotic for his own good, and he needed to be whipped into shape; Ciel would be the man to make that happen.  
     Ah, but now he was his companion and assistant for the next four years- he had to play nice or Alois would never listen to him. Not to mention that in every good work relationship there lies a sense of great trust. If he could not be a trustworthy person to this unsightly excuse for a criminal mastermind, what good would "whipping him into shape" do?  
     Ciel bit his lip as he came to his conclusion, and shook his head in disbelief at what he was thinking. The only way to get the best work and loyalty out of the blond would be to befriend him, in a work-oriented fashion of course.   
     He put his hands on his hips, "Ah, this- this knot. It's- ah, far too stuck for me to get it undone. I suppose I'll have to take it down later. Drat." He pursed his lips and looked back at Alois, who was now sitting up gently with a parted expression on his defeated features.   
     There he was, being scared and beautiful again. Ciel turned and scoffed, setting his fingers on his jaw to start brushing under his nose. "I- am, however, going to get you a new suit. You can't possibly work under me in that, you look like a right whore. I'll be back in a few minutes to tell you the case we'll be taking. Suit in tow." He started to turn and walk away, but then remembered something and he pointed straight at Alois to get his point across, "And, I'm going to turn on the cameras. Absolutely no more mischief."  
     Alois nodded hurriedly, assuring Ciel that he was heard loud and clear. Detective Phantomhive reciprocated with one nod and strode out, shutting the doors behind him and leaving Alois by himself again.  
     The man placed a hand over his heart, his expression softening as a smile spread across his face. Then the smile turned into more of a smirk and he rolled over onto his back, kicking his legs up and crossing them in the air.  
     "Stupid dote."


End file.
